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Sirens’ call urges me to throw caution out to sea.
Feel the need to leave this place, cast a net, be embraced.
Far too long sat on shore, getting by but nothing more.
Long for frolic of stage, life’s on hold, heart’s disengaged.
Voices in my head live in prose and poetry instead.
“The plays the thing,” said the Bard; cold turkey is dry and hard.
Adulting’s not for me, long for Sirens in rough seas.