I can’t go home tonight
Unless to ascend the attic stair to die
Would it have been better to settle
Than keep climbing to exhaustion
Breathing slowly eyes shut softly
Tapping lightly on the table
There’s a small whisker on my chin
Grounding my mind to this earth and sky
The drive to the coast is long
The sea is rough and cold
No one is widely aware
Managing a private tour their own
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