no such thing as unicorns
never seen a jackal-ope
never has my face stayed clean
losers never won the race
and the rocking chair never stayed dark green
smiles faded
laughs died
and when she did,
the angels cried.
'cause living isn't for the perfect,
or the broken-hearted souls
her soft sobs broke the silence
and created black, empty, holes
that ripped through light, that tore, relentless
aware of the damage that'd been done
Give me more, sweet sorrow,
End the torment,
because tomorrow,
sunshine breathes a last wave of heat
and pores soak up the lasting sweat
of a person who was never more
than a never-ending bet.
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