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Go: a poem


It’s strange how 
The mountains call me 
When I’m feeling frantic,
Stuck in panic.

Maybe I just want to run 
Away from the feeling
To something bigger then me,
Something that makes 
What I’m feeling so small
Compared to its vast greatness.
Maybe it is because 
I feel trapped in my mind,
Claustrophobic in my brain,
Wishing for the openness 
That those wide hills provide.

I crave to gulp in the chilled air, 
As if the oxygen will release 
The tightness in my chest. 
I long to gape at the far skyline,
As if the stillness will calm
The rustle of my thoughts.

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