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Sketchpad

and every time things start to look up
the world beeats us down
and life decides against us
and somehow, we're apart again

and every time i try to hold on tighter
there are no handles
there are no grips
and suddenly i'm falling

and every time i try to grab your hand
you slip out of reach
and i can't see you anymore
and my face slips under water

and i'm left sketching empty hearts
tears staining the paper
and words won't come to pen

and a little flame in me flickers
in a high wind.





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