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There laid a lost soul, a troubled mind, a tired heart,
I reckoned there was a bed, so was there the tired..
Beneath laid crooked time and a board dashed with darts...
Peculiar enough as high and low admired.

Here lies that agony, lies that pain…
All in sweet peace, all in perfect illusion.
Where time was dead, and none to gain…
A blissful rhyme, a sweet imagery; or a delusion..

Painted this vision, painted this memory,
In awkward enthrallment, in pure symphony..
Shoved my shades of blue, down the white, as I poured the coke… .
Immersed into the unknown through the brush stroke…

— The End —