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I question myself, as much as I would like to
As much as a tumultuous wave whose reason is still due
My backpack is full, but is it an illusion?
I think it probably is, but it sometimes really is full
I go to a nature park, and why are there loops in the road everywhere?
A day that appears to be monotonous is not the reality
A day that truly is monotonous is definitely rare
I’m a multi-musician, but am I proficient in one way or another?
An answer pans across the dewdrops of the pond
The acoustics around me, the chirps wrapping around my eardrum
The table is not turning, but it’s tilting
I know that I am excellent in certain things
Hence, I make a tribute
And there’s no specific reason
It’s just another idea of questionable originality