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My mind is a               ghost house, Haunted by souls still trying t still here o be found. Some live   still Others,        mere vapours still here Exhale, then die, and resurrect in technicolour, Only to expire again Like candles in an unexpected breeze. The windows were left open In the dark, the spectres still.
0
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
Dem entia
My mind is a               ghost house, Haunted by souls still trying t still here o be found. Some live   still Others,        mere vapours still here Exhale, then die, and resurrect in technicolour, Only to expire again Like candles in an unexpected breeze. The windows were left open In the dark, the spectres still.
AmandaIS
Written by
English
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:12 PM UTC
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