Drawing in front of a picture window,
He just can't see that the lines are crossed,
As confusion tells the story
What once was taken at face value seems to have gone incognito,
Nameless and lacking definition
Where has the satisfying structure of happiness gone,
Out to a lunch it likely won't return from,
Toward an outdoors which feels more like a large, atmospheric fan that's devoid of cheer?
To survive, he may have to reconfigure his perceptions due to undeveloped circumstance ambition,
Or draw his own conclusions better
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