Tuesday, May 24, 2016

N

Mercy my friend
I thought lost ere the end
My fugitive's face
That's the thing about grace
What scares us the most
Are the things we hold close.
I'm lost I suppose
If I was ever found
If I was ever bound
For somewhere, someplace else
In all directions I find myself
And I've never liked a one
Roulette without a gun
To find the least mistakes.

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