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Jan 2017
I'll find no rest in this old home
Another house beneath my feet
Like sands which shift on a foreign shole
I am the comber of this beach

With every night alive I wake
To wind which howls
And a bed which aches

Though guilty as my leave may be
I can no longer sleep within this place
And the memories are are that's left (:
Colm
Written by
Colm
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