Far Apart, Though Sunday

The things we have stretched
The hugs we wrongly refused
Hate bound
Landed smile
Empty vessel
it ain’t right, he said
Playing the game of circles
Biting hard only to recieve water
The thirst for red
A roundabout of situations
The effects of mankind
Right on the ledge
A broken society about to break
Another demise
So far, so good
Bad for throat
Thick lump for soul
Vocal lullabies of a written cycle

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