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Everything is bleak
It’s the middle of the night
(I’m) all alone
and the dummies might be right
(I) feel like a jerk
my music at work
my music at work
Same story, different night. The same old tune, same tired song and dance she brings up, to grind down into the time-worn carpet. She regrets it, immediately. Sees the hurt in his eyes, understands what she’s done, but the song has started, and must now play out. She’s full of regret and smoke, as ephemeral as the flame he’d lit her joint with, wishing she could exhale her love for him like a cleansing smudge and take away all her toxic negativity.
Need a smudge?
Subreddit
Post Details
- Posted
- 3 years ago
- Reddit URL
- View post on reddit.com
- External URL
- reddit.com/r/Kikpals/com...