THE SKY 
The sky
I want to squeeze the sky.
So tight, so hard to the point of pain. Deep enough to tears.
When I shake someone’s hand, I want my sky to give.
Everyone wants the sky. No one wants a hand!
Hands go to the sky!
A piece you have torn off with your hands! My hands are heavy.
They are empty. I am waiting!
Give me your hand! Don’t waste the sky!
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