Jonathan Wong


I soar like a madman, attacking the ashphalt ground
A steady stream of sparks fly near my feet
Wind and weather cower at the roaring sound
Buzzing at a strange trajectory, like an arcing skeet
The wind blew past, and I marvel at the sight
Of the colors that enveloped me, in a glimmering vortex
The sceneries change at my leg's every slight
Shifting and bending, a neverending apex
Nothing can touch my skin, save for the empty air

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