Every Year.

You would think,
Only two spheres exist
Life and death
Beginnings and endings
But there is the in-between
Confusion rings the loudest
That place, like Bermuda
Devours reasoning, churns logic
And spits it outside the sphere
Some land in the wind and glide
Others splatter flat on the floor
Until tomorrow, no one knows
What’s possible in Bermuda
Which is our lives
Deep breaths? Stillness?
One thing is for sure,
Outside of that chaos
You either live or you die


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