I found the sky and chose the ground. I tend to fall and if I do I don't want to rely on a cloud. In the grass, I can sleep - or close to sleep, no one truly sleeps anymore. In the trees I can hide. In the dirt I can revel and in the gold I can pity. I can't do anything in the sky but fly and be free, and no one's ever really free. A bird is binded to the sky, but I'm content in being confined to the ground.
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