Imagination


This topic I vague about
Is one I’ll remember
Like pins sticking
Into those voodoo dolls
Everyone abuses.

It’s formally winter,
And from what I’ve heard
I can’t help but hope it’s me
While slowly letting myself down
(Although, that’s your thing, baby.)

I know it’s not me
But so easily I
Can delude myself into thinking so.
We’ll see when the day comes,
But by then-
I’ll probably wish it never had.

Imagination

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