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When the sun hits She pillages tools from the toolbox Only herself to fix When the moon sits Her ocular mislay the bones buried beneath chest Matters not where she is Some nights She's left to claw a dresser with folded oaths Inflating lungs, forging trust, to lift two toes Some nights The capsules burglarize her gas-tanks war Stifling her endlessly to the end of the tour
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Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
Some Nights—When The Battle's Over—Her Voice Resonates The Sound Of Paper
When the sun hits She pillages tools from the toolbox Only herself to fix When the moon sits Her ocular mislay the bones buried beneath chest Matters not where she is Some nights She's left to claw a dresser with folded oaths Inflating lungs, forging trust, to lift two toes Some nights The capsules burglarize her gas-tanks war Stifling her endlessly to the end of the tour
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Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
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