These faithful walking boots,
In them I've walked many miles.
One is splitting at the soul,
The other is perfectly fine.
No longer a pair.
Now a paradox.
Two eyes.
But I can see fine with just one,
Though it does get rather tired.
The ground shifts,
Struts and joists move around,
Creaking and jarring.
We cling to each other.
Is the whole earth collapsing?
The dust settles,
And oh what a strange house we now have.
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