After ages, I went back to the trash can.
To find the last bit of the paper.
To patch the cracked words.
To roll the perceptions in.
And smoke it up. Up in the air.
Just to send the long buried feelings, to my pal, at an unknown address.
But the trash refused to visit its past.
To find the last bit of the paper.
To patch the cracked words.
To roll the perceptions in.
And smoke it up. Up in the air.
Just to send the long buried feelings, to my pal, at an unknown address.
But the trash refused to visit its past.
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