I am done losing my sense to tiredness
Bidding my streak with holliness,
Conversing to the dawn in nakedness,
Muting my ever so gracious talent
In every nightfall,
I am so done of every rock minded
Pestering the heart of my loneliness,
And before my hoard are some great
And before my joy there will be some
great obstruction.


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Cory Garcia Dani Davis ~Randomness rocks, and Poetry Rules~ steven

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