Candids taken in the frigid Friday lights,
I didn’t make it in them this time.
Slowly breathing, holding tight,
Melt into mornings, glow all night.
I’m told how much I’m loved,
But I don’t know how to hold it.
Shaking hands, triple gloved,
Preferring always to push and shove.
“Let me know if you need to talk,”
I’ll never tell you anything now.
Upon this road I’ll always walk,
A screeching man, a sobbing hawk.
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