After a night filled with whiskey, brick and cold-
The roof made a hiding spot, a ladder paved in gold.
No one touched me, the spirit stared;
The cement lined walkway dragged me there.
I lied.
My beloved ones believed;
And my make believe life – for its death I grieved.
But there was the sun; a comfort and a creep,
It knows me too well,
When I greet it, it weeps.
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