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by IMoore Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1761474

i havent come up with a title, but its about sleep and darkness i think.

Imagined sounds
Swirling round and round
Disconnected from the world
But instead unto myself I am curled
No comfort to be found
In these confounds
Little peace is gained
And my mind is even more drained
As soon as the process starts
I wish to part
To take my leave
But I must stay, if only to grieve
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