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Caffinated Dreams
can take me farther
Than most others.
Their motives
Are kept secret
By my idle heart
As moonlight shines
In waves of
Cotton comforters.
Their journey
Eludes gravity
As they travel in
One ear and out
Through my fingertips
Like lightning, never
Clinging to one spot.
Not tumorous,
They do not gather
As a mass, or
Steal our lives.
They take, instead
Our memories.
We blink; they
Morph them into fears.
Delusion of hope
Cannot cause us
Death. Night,
Grief’s receiver
Cannot be blamed
For such sorrow,
The burden is
Only ours.

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