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Fuck it;)

Word smith an unintelligent gun smith power lives, in the sound between your lips so girls bend your hips just jokes so, Netflix and chill, ...

Sunday, 25 January 2026

Mr dry eyes.

Sleep evades of awoken thoughts that cascade
like rain in the gutter flooding the drains
of disdain for who's lain with a still active brain
in remains maimed of insane gains
asked to explain pain as the thoughts wane
behind an automatic smile framed so they can't obtain the grain
the truth famed in its crowned reign of a mind stained
like they can help, the vain train thinks it's only sane
for the truth tracks, for it's laid plain 
only the mouth abstains from the fear its tame.