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tiptoed higher up/ I kept my head down/ until now I look up. Top of the building/ on the very tip. Shifted my way through the units of the day. Seconds/ minutes/ hours. Then onwards to weeks and months and years. When asked/ I lie about specifics because I do not know them. ‘I’ve seen you about’ ‘Have you? When?’ This is a mystery/ not my love/ nor my friend. Maybe my mind has gone on an expedition to become an icon. Okay/ maybe too much. But an acknowledgement at least. For the people/ they point me out as part of a scene. So where am I to land someday? In your head/ clear the doorway. Rise up/ up above the rays. To a pillar/ a statue/ that’ll be my grave. I am a heart pumping the blood of this city. Don’t see me? That is quite a pity.
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