A Blue Mayhem
The stares from bedridden people are haunting-C’mon, be a good sport, those stares are all they own,And you can’t, simply can’t ask her to shelter cries,As she never forgot, that missing light, a preyTo sudden famines-But soon life, and wind will break into the house,Even though you didn’t ask them in,Your wrath set on never stroking them, grass, trees,For too
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