It's been awhile since I knew you.
An idea of your memory.
With a truth it is held.
I'll write then I'll dream,
of us with esteem,
Awoken to this haunting;
my ears set to steam.
A trumpet from dear Jesus,
wakes my head oh reckon scum.
A migraine to pass attention.
Better being stuck in the rain.
Words i read backword,
to me sound insane.
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