collected, calm, perfected

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it's barely past eleven
and i'm drowning in your heaven;
a black abyss i used to miss
until i learnt not to resist,
'cause if i kissed the sky good night,
would it be right for me to sight read you?
i might need you further down the line,
but in the meantime, i'm collected,
calm, perfected; my sanity is wrecked; it
feels to me like poetry is the only key
to eternity, but we die here.
that's no reason to shed a tear.

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