The sentiment of wanting
The wastedness of an unopened sheet
All the piles of dreams uncaptured
By all the miles uncovered, visibly seen
I know traveling in a four post spread
I know wanting from yearning to return again
And any which you do, do it ever well
Beauty is a sight you must close your eyes to see
Afterwards, there are always longing thoughts
Afterwards, though you chose to stay cognizant
When you would have rather breathed the deep
There is sun creeping the window, a reminder of misery
Still, given time, another ransom in each ending
Still, more chances for you to waste out in the wind
The world, for its part, perplexes, forces your eyes to see
The unopened sheet in the corner, the madness of infinity
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