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In a dark room, a hand toches this poem, a ghastly flower, someone may, for a moement, see her. Came Neptunus or static slack. I have no use for titanium white, its tint in tornado season,
Sit and think. Thoughts flow like a needle through tapestry. A tapestry tinged with yellow thread Yellow, like my contentment.
the storm has settled.
Open your palms, dont clentch. Imagine youre sitting, waiting alone on a bench. The leaves blow by, rolling past your tired feet, those that you use to chase dreams.
I've made a tiny paper plane It's crumpled and doesn't fly well But it's my gift to you It's unbalanced and lopsided And can't loopdy loop All it does is spin and twirls
The dark night of my soul Please save me If it takes hold I don't know which way is home I'm lost and it's oh so cold I hate how I'm so alone