They’ll put you into boxes when you’re living!
They’ll put you into a box when you’re dead!
We live in houses (brick boxes)
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nice words one going into the other coming back upon itself the heart yearning for wings though much much to large to spread in the coffin sailing away into your own heart a fine poem
Interesting viewpoint, Daniel. Never really thought of it that way, but I think you might be on to something. A 10 from me for originality. Shannon