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Fake gold swirls on this desert floor. The ashes of my care free innocence Are running through my pessimistic hands. It sticks under these rusty finger nails. Like your last goodbyes, They leave me with a cynical grin. "Come for me I dare you!" My brash wish was under your command, As my hoarse throat neighed Questing for relief, Water, Anything, I beg you. Maybe this request really wasn't mine to offer My aged eyes roll back To the games of dice I played as a kid, Tossing what little worries I had away As I became A part of The sand.
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
Sand
Fake gold swirls on this desert floor. The ashes of my care free innocence Are running through my pessimistic hands. It sticks under these rusty finger nails. Like your last goodbyes, They leave me with a cynical grin. "Come for me I dare you!" My brash wish was under your command, As my hoarse throat neighed Questing for relief, Water, Anything, I beg you. Maybe this request really wasn't mine to offer My aged eyes roll back To the games of dice I played as a kid, Tossing what little worries I had away As I became A part of The sand.
jason-cirkovic
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Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 12:06 AM UTC
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