The tast of salt on the bare of my hands, lingering.
The cave in my heart,
Leaving sounds of the breeze, of a land often to visit.
The music ringing in my ears, the cry of an angel
Tumbling into the mist of the abyss.
Pinch me, I must be bleeding
from the heart out, a discovery of no light
Life can never be so kind
You can cry, for no reason,
you can cry, without treason
The brush of an eyelash on the palm of my hand
Oh, I will cry.
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