Somehow, at 6 a.m,
or whenever it is
that the Sun returns again,
the taste & the smell
of the air hitting at the back
of my throat, always
fills me with hope.
Sometimes though
hope makes everything worse.
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Words for Ghosts 
Nice piece, good sir.
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sir/madame! =O (sorrysorrysorry!)
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I’m whatever you want me to be…
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Sounds oddly romantic.
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