Freed from Traction

In depend on it 
Free to choose to lose focus
Passivicious voice

In cacophony
Whose desired identity
Washes out in waves of difference

Lenses of chaos won't magnify
The one thing you want to see
And suggestions fly
In unabated indignance 

Where the trees waved
In their place 
There is no air or vacuum
Only solid options

In divisibility

In ability to pick
A wound as great as a prison
Is no door, no window, no ceiling

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