WILD TRUE, KID:
a string of pearls
in series of peace
as ninja stars propelled by rest;
a mountainous jaunt in holding still
as wells only built to be filled.

i cried mine eyes enough of days
where hours had their stakes in me.
containment held a depth of pace;
a cpu grew fast in ease.

By blood of mules it'd never be,
but by sacrificing the depression
for a deeper rest to rise and neigh
a most precious cooing
wooed me free
to say,