You are a horse
and you're not very high.
You sleep on his shoes
and silently cry.
Your quickest is walking,
the shoes would allege;
you wish you were faster
and get to the edge.
Then a diving disaster
sharp rocks and sharks
no one's jumping in after
you.
Whatever, whatever
and off with the waves.
If horses could swim,
you know you'd be saved.
But drowning's a blanket,
it cradles you well.
This certainly is a comfortable dwelling for hell.
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