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Sep 2015
Silence,
Followed by the lulls of the wind.
Where one would have the blessed sleep,
Here I am,

Strained, tired, feel like a sack of meat,

It is strange though,
to have never felt this peace before,
as you are shrouded by the darkness,
yet like a firefly, live during it,
but sadly, die during the day.
Lemon
Written by
Lemon  New York
(New York)   
453
 
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