Between toll of five and six
he wakes her dawn with scythe
of his restless thoughts and sighs.
She joins him tourniquet in
the morn that keeps them forlorn
longing for the sun to rise.
Who will blink bright first?

So tired, so tired, so tired

She prays today is that day
A dement relief of the pain
time refuses to heal hollow. 
Stubborn clock ticks a reverse
making his absence far w...

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