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La salle de couvée (Free verse) by ~incarnate~
Head phones on my ear, wires everywhere
Bjork's weirdness enthrall's me
"I'm a tree of hearts, one for each that you take"
the bachelorette. Fragile isn't she?
All alone. Again. I'm still searching.
The overcast clouds do naught to improve my mood
Mom says it is unfair to brood, people are forced
to watch me pout, and slouch about
Sick self pity it does preserve my dignity
though small. I listen to the winds constant wailing
and decide it's time I stopped wallowing
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