The son is still making in body
In a body’s stomach growling.

We have to find sense for him.
While we put a finishing touch

Stomachs keep their thunder
And empty light in their skies.

Son has to crawl up to the sky
And say his mama and names

Holding his wall’s white alone.
But all the while,a night stares

Empty light stares unfinished,
At piece of boom from night.

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