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May 2015
Chisel silver into your tongue
And let words babble from it
Like a stream

Weave them into tendrils
And let them pull you gently
Into a dream

Silly girl, your loneliness
Knows no bounds in its
Hypocrisy

You snip the threads and
Let them drift away

And away

And away

Ghost of a memory
And that's all you aim to be
Aniseed
Written by
Aniseed  122/Mars
(122/Mars)   
416
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