White nights,

white nights...

I'm colourblind.

Kind of like to think I know

why we stand solid,

struck dumb by perennial sadness;

and the salient points,

burst like bubbles in smoked air;

clasped to the breast

that sinks as seconds lengthen

even beyond reason for purge.

Beyond the clouds that fall,

in spirals, now thick moistened rope;

we are given base,

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