Middle Class White Guy
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Confessions Of A Desolate Mind

Late night, blank stare, gazing into space
Empty head, dusty mind, vacant plastic face
Where's the fire that used to rage,
That burnt my words onto the page,
Life is dull, now so am I,
My voice as dead as a corpses sigh

Candles, josticks, essential oils, the air is thick with haze
While static time amasses heavy, minutes lasting days
A cocktail of drugs, contaminate my blood
Anything to occupy this desolate period
The rhyming dictionary mocks my cries
And the thesaurus laughs as my last rhyme dies

3am the world is still, the music paints the dark
And the cavernous void of my vacuous mind, devours my final spark

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