sitting in an old wooden chair and watching humanity starve.
theyre filling up on pastries and french onion soup while i sit here
hungry only for your touch.
the aroma from my peach tea is the light in this situation.
i dont know when it got like this,
but that night stole my mind.
its playing like a shaky, dusty reel- over and over again in my mind.
ive never been like this.
or atleast i dont ever remember this.
its always been me against me.
i gave in, gave up and let go.
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