Music of the SpheresA Poem by Soil Creep
I can always tell when he is about to finish.
Bald optimism in the key of weakness, he is frantic with a mind of effervescent confidence to quell past insecurities. No, really, What is the difference between trivial and anachronistic jabberings of piano wire. Certainly there are more hammers available, let's trade addiction stories, blasted thoughts, revelations in bathtubs, porcelain sheets, industrial clanks aplomb with strife, he's almost there, key change.
© 2013 Soil CreepAuthor's Note
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