The Next Mourning

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This wind keeps whipping through me, and
the sparks that let me see truly. I
feel like I'm in motion,
but are they just ripples on the ocean?
Flames, they lick higher, well
is it just desire? Tell
me just what they mean. I
don't feel redeemed now.

Something says I should,
stay right here, but
The truth of the moment is
staring back in my face. And
Something pulls me,
pushes right through me.

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