Sometimes life is exquisite.
Like a blink that refreshes your core,
But evaporates the moment your eyes open.
Diagnose me.
I am not a happy mourner.
Bury my feet in the ground so that I am stuck,
Forced to endure the storm without waver.
I'm a pretty pansy.
Pluck me up.
Drag me in
And comfort me senseless.
Hope breeds under my skin
and I hope it plans to surface
While I la lee gag around my city
Head so full its heavy.
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