What is simple in the moonlight by the morning never is
Am in need of isolation. And to drown myself in words. Because only words make sense. It has always made sense. But it can be so obscure, and we can be so guarded. We sit in the face of sense and all we do is to prove we are lampoonists.
What's wrong? Nothing's right sometimes. And falling is the last thing I want to do. Wanting something you can't get would be next. Check, and check.
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