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lonely days are finding their ways
hath my heart grown weaker ?

i am finally able to inhale
but its exhaling that troubles
old songs blaring
sounds that soothes
even the oxford man can’t hit his cue
am I not resolved in my heart
I am working like a slave
so one day I may live like a king
the closer I get
the more I realize I am still just
a dog

some days I think,
" we are going to live forever "
other days I think about recycled paper flowers
a habit I forcefully want to quit
but I just can’t stop the violins playing in my head

I can hear a soul smiling
from miles away
happy, I may be
breathing heavier,
I definitely am