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A little attic

A little silent

Corner of my eyes

Farther from my home

Further off my heart

Fused to my footsteps

Is weary and smeary

I am bound by its ladders

It’s turbulence

Is not it’s people

It’s upper top

Is hoisting my self

Left right of it’s centre

Never ever I thought

Never ever I felt

Turbulence in the walls

Tremors in the concrete

It’s so pale, pillars never seen

Inn, a sober inn

Is around this attic

Inside a pile of buildings

Brought up in haste

Brewing up smoky lives

Bruising itself in this course

Bragging time and again

Feeling so feverish

I crawl up the ladders

Leading to a larking future

Coiling left right and centre