Relief
It is such a waste to sigh in between sips
Of dark brews. In the night the only silence you reap is distant
Noises traversing your brain. As if this were a distant light
You remain flawed doing all the beginnings of a ring.
If it were brews in your lungs that gape through your inane moves
And the way of an irate, this room will drip and empty itself
The minute everyone dries the considerations of smells.
Of dark brews. In the night the only silence you reap is distant
Noises traversing your brain. As if this were a distant light
You remain flawed doing all the beginnings of a ring.
If it were brews in your lungs that gape through your inane moves
And the way of an irate, this room will drip and empty itself
The minute everyone dries the considerations of smells.
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