Your momma called it your "extra",
that reservoir you tap,
dance a little above, beyond
status quo. You wrap
your little head around
what others wrap around,
and others. Never mind.
You gotta focus light.
You gotta streamline fluttered flight
or fight to keep the gift lit.
It's not yours dear,
clear as synapse fire -
so streamline fluttered flight,
Momma's "extra", our delight.
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