In everything there is,
That can never be tread perfectly,
Without abandoning consciousness.
We were made to constantly deviate,
And crisscross perfection without touching it,
And become a different person with each crossing.
Life is just proximity to the target.
That is why things are called 'left' and 'right',
And why those who refuse to cross seem so stagnant,
Except to those who also refuse to leave their side,
Because there're fine lines within each fascist.
So, it's alright,
If you're stuck in a rut,
You've been crossing lines, though subtle ones,
You've just not appealled to a very large cut.
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