contemplative

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I   How do you know this second is your last breath? How do you know gems that trickle will call smiles?  How do you know that pronoun will be your first kiss?
Far off sounds Those distant sounds You lie awake at night and hear The train crossing miles and miles away
Sleep deprived,zombie-like;as mindless as air,and as mechanical as the gearshiftsof a manual transmission.
There isn't a stir, Dim light bathing the room in gold, And she sits, staring out the window The landscape a canvas she paints with her eyes, Conjuring dreams from the mind to the beyond.
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