Rise
Living in a valley has it's up and downs,
The mountains are a sight to see,
But the air is think and brown.
Every sound the city makes will echo peak to peak,
It's volume alone is loud enough,
To make a strong man weak.
Some days I have to leave and go up in the mountains,
To breathe fresh air, and think alone,
A place of no more doubting.
When I think in this place one thought comes to mind,
Life is big and messy,
What purpose must I fund?
My purpose of life is simple and easy,
To surround myself with all the things,
That I find Beatiful and Pleasing.
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