We wake up on the ground
But we don't move
Within the breadth of a breath
I know how I got here
To falling down. Stares
When only pride is bruised,
Browsing for memories
Lit up to a red hue
We go out to the sea, dictaphone in tow
And when we listen back to that little black box
We don't feel very good about the people we are
Yet don't regret waking. Not at all.
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