We lay our heads, think of things. Sleepily, we push off to dreams. Hoping for these visions of happiness. I may sleep a million hours and never see these things. Sleep a thousand days and never grow anything. My mind resting on lucid thoughts. Waking up to swollen eye lids, my mind never resting though pleasantly asleep. My mind ever resting thinking of all these things. But simply thinking of your lovely ways, these lines embossed into pleasant silhouettes pleasantly torturings of these memories of you.
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