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Lost

  • Seattle Prep Ignite
  • May 13, 2019
  • 1 min read

I’m finding my mind is grinding orange peels

And the soft bluish ink protects me from fears The fire, it crackles in the ocean so bright For all was then lost in the dead of the night

Freedom sings an old, dull brass tune And through one another, we fight back its boon Maybe free apples are more than they seem For all was then lost, in the white fire’s gleam

In the thick branchy wood a bluebird does sing It calls us to join him, to be our own kings Our singularities follow us not in the wood And we all get lost in there, as we all should

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