The key ingredient to a flower is not sunlight,
But the brightness of the world shining back on the soil it seeds.
The worms grow short and dim,
Because they have sunk into the deep hole of the grim.
Everyone can see,
That life is no fair game.
But everyone struggles,
Even the silly sane.
Crazy people can be inspiration,
To no one but their pain.
The knowing kind of people,
Who really should be sane.
The water runs deep threw the cement,
In hopes of finding a drinker,
They both come home with no content,
In their blood, no heavy thinker.
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