I don’t like to post works that I don’t like
But no wonder, writing is writing
You, 4 am, glasses on and fervid
Your documents you’re compiling

I never thought the truth would be
So tepid and so warm
It’s like things can be so carefree
Until the birds start to swarm

You tell me I write blazing fast
Slow down, let your mind catch up
But you don’t know what’s in my head
We differ in mannerisms, that’s what’s up

I like your crystal tendencies
I like the pitch black night
I like the scaly, scary things
I’ll die for the frostbite

But still, wrap me up tight
Turn off the lights


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