Infinitive Play

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Ink bleeding blue blood on the page.
Getting lost in the moment,
Getting lost in the rage.
My anger shooting out my fingertips.
Huge and heavy sighs excape my tight lips.
Nothing in life is right without song.
Without song most everything is catigorized as wrong.
The infectious music that holds us together letting us wish and hope of forever.
The song of the leaves and nests in the trees.
The song of the widower begging God please.
The song of the dessperate down on their knees.
No such thing as an ending on an infinative play.
No such thing as silence for there is always something to say.
This is the song of life it's self.





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