Cool.

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So cool, like the other side of my pillow,
where my tears used to lay.

The dynasty of misery, has come,
and passed, never to return.
I have finally raised, my own Great Wall,
like they did, so long ago.

I am, but the epitome of culture,
a hermit from my past.

Stretch my arms out wide,
the crucifixion of my sorrow.
Sweet taste of salty water,
on the deck of my Titanic.

I claim the story as my own,
my sapphire heart like my deep blue sea.

Like a spider,
eyes in the back of my head,
The past pokes and prods,
and blinds forever more.





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