If I can't make a worm into a butterfly while my mind stretches itself along the inked fingers, if I can only describe what I see and all I see are worms...
...I'll just lie to the world and give myself two wings. I'll paint the skies that I see, the fear of the nature, the hiding in the tree trunks, the lonely float in the air which never seems to have a compass or a speedometer.
I won't be a worm anymore, a worm of the ground. I'll discover what nobody else does, feel and think of the world with my eyes so open that the truth will make me blind. I'll even lose my interest in the cycles of this sphere. I'll die soon, just like a mainstream pop song, but after the glory of entertaining people for some days with my fake beauty.
Fair enough. Finally got it.
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