I have few bad intentions and all the rest may seem gracious,
I can't complain of the ways you make me pay for waiting
in my life's lonely hours where there seems to be nothing but
cruel pain when the ghosts flood the canvas of my blank stares
and stray dust particles rewind in the dim air.
I can resume my composure...
all must be well. For my head just aches. It is better if I nap.
Then my dreams partake in a flight of assaults to a resting brain.
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