In the meeting of your eyes
I’ve heard voices that speak to me
Aware me of myself in a barren ground
With everything indelibly photographed
Unwary of myself, a coincidental being
I don’t know what it means
To have pierced your truth in the eyes
Build me into a thorn beneath the sheets
And dress your comfort pouring naked
Right before every eye, melancholic
Scared in your mind, a thing of hurt
Wheels on your lyrical face
Fuss rushing out without sounds
Crying from it’s hiding placements
Yet the actions remain in stagnation
Emotions wild on a restless street
And still these thoughts wrestle
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