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Apr 2020
A simple spectre wrecks the calm.

O' Sleep, his absence bids the morn.

His dreams he seems to scatter far,

yet leaves my bedroom door ajar.

Although I grip, he slips my palm,

and so I greet the ruthless dawn.

O' Sleep, I'll leap at where you are,

because I've counted every star.
Kvothe
Written by
Kvothe  28/M/Newcastle, England
(28/M/Newcastle, England)   
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