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Oct 2019
When the wind blows
Through the drapes,
Half open.
A breeze
Comes from somewhere
To play with the smoke.
On the table
There is incense
Going up in essence.
The radio keeps talking,
And screaming
At me,
Laughing
With me?
My imaginary friends
Would call me paranoid
If I had any.
Guden
Written by
Guden  35/Valparaiso
(35/Valparaiso)   
  367
   Fawn
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