A life, a wreck.
Charming is her dress...
...and the nape of her neck.
It leaves, by the by.
Take off old threads by her tomb of a bed.
And we'll pretend like we're angry young men...
...lest we should forget.
Angst marrs your eyes (such unclear warning signs).
My heart's cold drone will outlive these faded bones...
...but I won't always be alone, I won't always feel this...
How she now sits oddly with the times.
I was lost, was lost, was lost and so ashamed.
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