I’m locked away in my thoughtshop. Chopping at my thoughts, filing my emotions.
Like a craftsman, I sculptured my dream into reality.
Not even this black night will obstruct my moon from drawing the man and his shadow. A silhouette of life.
Not the moon, not the night, but the stars and a million gaze from eyes that see all except self will tell the tale.
A falling star is a unicorn, the hope of many who await the chance to wish a wish in a world made of horses.
It’s the night, I’m the man. Our pact is same as then, close the world and dream again. Tomorrow the world opens to the next reality.
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