EVERY NIGHT I SPIT A BIT
writing words across the mindsince I can't remember
but still every night
tale-telling love
that goes against a wall
to be shot
feeling that dives
with no open air
a light that spins around solitude
with no meaning
or reply to be told
people stuck in a painless worm hole
itching and scratching
poisoned at chance
living against and
fed up with romance
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