I will be the lamp post to anchor your hours, 

you be the dirt for my bankrupt garden

In the empty mass of the could be tomorrows, 

I would make more sobering vows

 ::::::::::  ::::::::  ::::::::::

And if there’s things I miss I won’t admit it, 

if they start with him they have no ending, 

Don’t ask how he stole my answers, 

I’m on a hard earned quest for indifference

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

 

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