No time to face the fact, when your back,
Is flat against the wall,
Breathing deep, you can’t help but to keep,
From breaking when you fall.
Spinning fast, I just hope I can last,
Here beneath the spin light.
Papers sigh as we trace, the frail grace
Of one more feigning night.
Whispers glance, and I hope that by chance
Your memory’s consumed
And the ghosts in the grave, you forgave
May one day exhume.
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