The ideation is back, but mum's the word.
It's a sold out private party.
It's a wallow in a dive.
A last minute secret show
For a band nobody likes.
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I couldn't grow with you but I certainly grew because of you.
Thanks for that.
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I do not deal in definites
There is no forever guaranteed
Beaches are covered
in mountains that gave way
to the same weight I see
When a glass of water
grows heavier as you hold it.
I ask no god for absolution
My sins are no burden to pass
A stain my own hands
may not scrub.
Forgiveness and the end
will come as they are earned.
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Go sell that shit somewhere further from the heart
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She never pays a dime and rarely has the time
She rents a studio suite in my loft
She's constantly pacing and keeps my blood racing
She wears holes in the heels of my thought
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I don't half love you
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Holy trinities,
the rule of thirds
and tragic scenes.
Missing the forest
for the threes.
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I've been chasing God
Running after myself
Searching for the power
To be the ruler of my days
Not the victim of my nights
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Does an imposter still die twice?
Will it matter, the last time
A fake name is spoken?
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On the cusp
Off the top
In the chaos
I will thrive
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Even a dead fish can swim upstream
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With all the gusto of an english sophomore,
she quotes Bronte;
"He who dares not grasp the thorn",
excusing her own transgressions
in a fitting show of vanity.
Without missing a step,
he spit daggers back;
"Hunny, you ain't no rose.
You're a goddamn briar patch."
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🎨: Simkaye
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