having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
such a treat but a trick
merely moments,
molten memories melting
in the heated thoughts
of how heaven was found
crafted wings for those
wanting heights wane in
wax and tumble to ground
shells of shattered souls
are peeled by feeble hands,
tossing hues to foreign lands
what is left, all the
theft could or would not
carry and hadn't the time
to terry for an early thaw
thus heights and shaded
shells, which many find at
sales or in abandoned wells,
are closer to granted hells
having heaven,
even heaven on a stick,
what will one someday pick
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