Signed Up: Dec 07, 2013 Comments: 0 · Posts: 53 · Topics: 10
I've almost grown but I am owned By murky, dangerous pangs; In inches that I've yet to gain, there's room enough to hang. The straws I draw are eigengrau, and leave us little hope. So if it comes, (and god forbid) the family must cope. An empty house, our empty sobs, have room enough for what would rob my family of a wretch. Then when they'd cry the mass would try to dig me out of bed. And though I love them toe to head, I want to sleep instead. I want to sleep instead.
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