The
frogs in slow fire cauldron
They
feel the warm heat flowing through
They
feel the dream land in their heads
Popping
up heads once a while to see
Underneath
the cauldron the slow fire glow
Giving
out mist of smoke to the air
The
frogs become lazy feeling the good warm
The
dream floating into their heads
The
lotus leaves slowing withered
Turning
brown sinking into the water
By
the time the frogs realize its danger
The
dreaming session turns bubbling noise
The
heated cauldron takes them
The
frogs have no place to jump
Drown
in the boiling heat of time
The
cauldron hissing the bubbling cry
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