Languid Anguish
The damp deserted streets of a forlorn town, dark figures stamp the dust of loneliness from their cold feet. At each corner the deranged minds find solace and comfort in the humble mailbox, teeming with sorrow.
Vast sheets of rain pour down from dizzying heights to our silent corner. Upturned raincoats shed only the tears of returning anguish. My people have fled the storm only to find each cloud bears their name.
A time for us, never.
Return now, leave me to my shadows. A mail truck comes by to pick up my torture, postage is no problem, only the address.
Vast sheets of rain pour down from dizzying heights to our silent corner. Upturned raincoats shed only the tears of returning anguish. My people have fled the storm only to find each cloud bears their name.
A time for us, never.
Return now, leave me to my shadows. A mail truck comes by to pick up my torture, postage is no problem, only the address.
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