with dirt and sand from foreign dreams
in a turmoiled leather bound pocket
scratching my fingers
prickling my heart
returning to me what lost was deemed
minutes rain, one drop at a time
my new virgin skin tastes each one
I fade away from the slowest crime
the ever beggar
the ever waster
I sing their tragedy but I am none
words are deceitful
my therapy my torture
did I manage once to lose myself
am I trudging in hope of constant hell
I'm my own fault
I'm fortune I'm failure
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