No high ceiling helped he stayed close to the floor crawling around at best, in the comfort zone Chilled, like fresh produce only raw thing were the feelings lost to the tides of opinion.
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No high ceiling helped he stayed close to the floor crawling around at best, in the comfort zone Chilled, like fresh produce only raw thing were the feelings lost to the tides of opinion.
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strong words, good poem
"lost to the tides of opinion" so good, as we are most certainly being lost in such these days. I wish more and more that the old saying that my grandparents were so fond of would come back, "keep your opinions to yourself, lad." Great poem, SE.