Ís this, too such to mask
that I would, but which I not
That which I know
That which I see
all
seems
a darker shade
A lighter grey, lit
seems
that yet again, I wake too soon
that yet again, I wake too soon,
woken by a broken hollow,
the hole is through my side
sleep feels more empty
and waking fails to comfort.
here I hope that I can be
bleeding out to see you live
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