Sometimes I'd like to touch in, and kiss letters dipped in tender fragrances, write two or more pages of, gather great ideas and then, walk around in it, to see if I can travel roads again, smoke less cigarettes, hold pens journal down those thoughts within this little boys fiction of what my life was to be. I'd write a letter to the president, hope he send a peace sign overseas to make times better then. Got this love that's so joyful, like playing pianos ever in that sunny day blue leathers and make it seem so weathered like raindrops on petals, dewdrops, and feathers of that song I've held forever when they asked me not cry. My joy, my tears, my glory, my pain, can't see pass the rain, it's falling, I know but I can't seem to stop crying.
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