If I get lost amidst the details
Fade into the atmosphere
If all that’s left is background noise
You can always find me here
Lying between the sheets
Caressing reverie
Tangled in fabrication
Weaving the world around me
Such a strange set of armor
With gaping holes and pinching seams
And nine years of corrosion
Caused by stagnant dreams
If I get stuck in all the synonyms
And the endless march of time
If all that’s left is twisted words
We can find clarity in rhyme
Riffling through these sheets of paper
Lies and truths snuck in between
The years are marked in paper cuts
And spilled ink I can’t scrub clean
Such a strange bed to lie in
Full of every comfort and every tear
And nine years of cultivation
For I've always found me here
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