February 21, 2018
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I lie in my soft, flowered covered sheets with nothing
but the nostalgic sound of  music playing from the
small, beaten-up record player in the corner of my room.

The music flows from the grooves with such force I believe
I am transported into a new life.
Lost from the old me.

I am dancing in a field full of yellow flowers,
listening to the sweet sounds of guitars strumming
calm notes and songs of peace and love.

Moving to a dark town full of eyes so black they
tear into my soul. These are no ballads, but sounds
of loneliness; of cries for help.

It is these times that the world turns from dark to light
in the short span of minutes as the needle moves
to the next rhythm, until it stops. And reality shows its face.

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