Interwoven, strands of rough twine is the fabric of my existance
The offshoots feel rough in a certain direction.
This make-shift tapestry is the product of monotony.
I get the chance to look at other products which leave me
To comparing my own.
The others with their intricate and vividness go overlooked
Some more erratic while others plain.
I know that the product can be changed
Its the key I look for.
Two keys, one on this plane and the other
I have the furthest key and I am proud.
But its the nearest I have yet to acquire.
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