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Trunkweed
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Slouch
Now that I've seen some sort of soulful sovereignty, who softly silences the seas, there seeps such serenity soothing me to sleep, softly, shallow but not bleak, it sows me at the seams, sinking in surreality.
Are you slouching or are you just sleeping in a saddened state, some sorry escape, from this place that you've made your reality?
Are you all alone?
That's what I call my home.
Sing to me, sing to me, sink into me, sing to me.
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