no room for sheep
emotions fall
wet my shirt
wet my hair
wet my soul..
it is a long walk to the makeshift shelter of sleep
and as i count my faults or the possibility of them,
the warped boards creak with the weight of my bitter bones.
wet my shirt
wet my hair
wet my soul..
it is a long walk to the makeshift shelter of sleep
and as i count my faults or the possibility of them,
the warped boards creak with the weight of my bitter bones.
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