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A handful of dust

Sifting through backhand motions and old boardgames
We all spent the time just passing days
Remnants of a few secrets, of stories never told
The corruption unfolds, but into her palms, it trickles

Your cinderblock heart will never crush me
But to her fragile veins, what remains might not be
Enough to get on through the day

A skyline milky white; a street sign bearing the color go
Everything she's kept inside
Will be just enough to let her go
Of all the further damage you've poured onto clogged arteries,
just to rev up your game.
...Will slide down slick banister live's,
until there's just nothing more to take.





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