We are not what you would call normal. You can tell by the way we stand there with the air of discontent. One of us taps their heals with no idea where home is. The other asking for a dance, with the music playing in the empty corners of his mind. My best friend is the breeze that whips my face as I run from sensibility. Sometimes we start a game with the intention of unity only to attract that kid who’s on fire. The monsters of our own creation hover in the distance, illuminating the unremarkableness of our presence. Yet we don’t mind, for it is what drives us from normalcy to grandeur.
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