Same shit, different day.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 12, 2018

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Submitted: September 12, 2018

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The skies are white on this morning, as another part of me is forming.

Snoring.

Is what I'd rather be doing Then to sit here again and listen to the noise in my head.

Another part of me seems to shed, I wonder what it's like to be dead.


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