With only a dime in my pocket,
I wasn't much about counting on change.
Last night in my bed, a ghost
The tangents of this parallel life
Matched by unparalleled strife.
I pressed my heart against a soft bed
To cushion the start of the verses it bled
For the jackpots and crackpots
That sound tinny to my ears,
And the phrases I coined
To break these phases of fear.
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