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One more night of talking,
One more night we speak,
One more night of it'll be alright,
One more night of honesty.

One last fight for something,
One last fight to breathe.
One last fight for it'll be alright,
One last fight for honesty.
Work in Progress. Sort of maybe?
She makes me scream on the inside,
But like,
The good scream.
The scream like the one you'd type out as "asdfjhkjgfdh'l;"
The scream you'd exclaim for ice cream.
That scream.
That's a pretty good scream mate.
Drinking on the phone is still the same as drinking all alone.
Put drinking in your poems,
People won't think you drink to sanitize your wounds.
People won't think you drink with no one else in the room.
I need more drinks.
I don't want to be on a leash,
I swear I'd laugh if you come back to me.
Though still there's a maybe,
Maybe I'll accept defeat,
Maybe I'll remain married,
Just, to burning at your feet.
Maybe I'll remain buried,
Somewhere near 6 feet deep.
Maybe I'm a zombie.
Maybe I'm a creep.
Why would I have been hoping?
I can't hold a job for more than a moment.
What could I even ever end up holding.
I have no hands so **** it.
With a pen and a pad,
Let's **** it.
Please hug me, and hold me tight, tell me everything we're in, has been all right.

Just love me, and say and I'm bright, when I speak, tell me I've awoken your night.

So touch me, and my shivering spine. I'll be your simple thing, and you'll be mine.
Having a muse.
Is like spiritual truth.
Never before, will you be so amused.
I thought this was a funny little pooem. lool
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