burning headache
when I'm tired and aching,
alone and hungry for,
there are no miracles to be seen
(I know they are there; I'm just blinded)
but I can still hear and feel,
still be moved
so I get drunk on music,
and pass out on touch,
and tomorrow: wake up to another day
alone and hungry for,
there are no miracles to be seen
(I know they are there; I'm just blinded)
but I can still hear and feel,
still be moved
so I get drunk on music,
and pass out on touch,
and tomorrow: wake up to another day
Labels: poem

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