When the patience just dissipates and scatters and hides
Memories present themselves with little joy to be assigned to them
And we hoard and store and shove our thoughts
Into a frail carrier...
Which can't help but regurgitate them into germs and demons and dust
And I can't help but do it and admire it,
And I can't help you.
So I told God I'd be a while,
He was never disappointed in his only child.
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