A private city sits perched on smoky air,
We stare as the ash clings to clothes and to hair.
I'd dare to close my eyes,
But I don't want to fade away.
I don't have the heart to say--
These festive lights make no disguise
So I bottle these things that I've been shown:
Innocence,
Sweetness in sugary flow,
Things like these I'll never know.
I'll just smile at which I can't relate
And sip into a darker state.
So I take a few steps back,
Admire your laugh in my panic attack,
Finding a soft way down the slope
A dull light replacing the essence of hope
That maybe I'll find what always escapes
With a trail of photos and audio tapes.
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