He pushes the boundaries of the institution,

Lying in the thick, itchy blades of grass,

Surrounded by ashes & thoughts, questions & stars.

He inhales often & exhales occasionally.

He perpetually keeps hearing the question

“Who is your God?”

“Who is your God?”

 

He wants to answer,

“Well, you are, of course.”

That is too easy to speak,

But not true enough.

 

Where does his loyalty truly lie?

 

 

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