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Jul 2012
The squeeky wiper wakes me
the windscreens already dry
No lights in sight for miles
and I've come down from my high

Noisy nonsense in my head
frustrates me to death
the crazyness of it all
cannot be told in one breath

The capital S ruins me
but, the man finally stands
Because since he did it
he no longer holds the world in his hands

Shoulders can grow stronger
and skin so much thicker
but no one can weave through your thoughts
from the place you call your wicker.

The capital S ruins me
and I dwindle away
there is nothing left to do
nothing meaningful to say

Pictured this so different
but it blew up in my face
not leaving would leave a gap in me
but staying, just a little space

You mirrored me as I plead my case
It was a rational knee **** reaction
but right then me without you
was the only right subtraction

The Capital S dominates me
It has inherited my hateful soul
for once I was broken
now I am an empty barren hole.
Julies Tales of Truth
953
   Grace Anderson
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