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Better to never touch than never be able to let go Suppose that’s how it works, but how would he know? He slowly lifts up his head and opens his eyes To see there’s no life left to live, within the scope of this light Here he can see that everyone’s gone, everyone left The shadows give his mind room to play They bring back the ones he needs to feel home To make the beating in his chest hurt a little less Complacency brings the warmth back to his hands Just as they used to be before the cold cam

Recordingspoken wordpoetryproseshort story
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