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Franklin Street

Although I’ve never said your name

I’ve cried tears for you just the same

I’ve cried tears you’ll never see

Head in my hands, down on one knee

these cursed moments which possess my life

grind my anger like a butcher’s knife

it’s very cold when the mind gets lost in black holes

thoughts become hosts when dancing round with old souls

continued conversations stretch to the corners of my life

up all night with hardened secrets stroked by a life of incurable strife

was it murder or was it his fault

she raised that question as she rimmed her glass with more salt

of all the beauty in this world to compare

instincts & thoughts help me to prepare

a torn passage in time, now a pause, now a prayer


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