–
I’ve been speaking into fog.
My voice it craves;
My words it keeps
In a pretty box,
Never to be shared,
Just stored away.
Soon it may go,
But it hasn’t told me when.
–
–
I’ve been speaking into fog.
My voice it craves;
My words it keeps
In a pretty box,
Never to be shared,
Just stored away.
Soon it may go,
But it hasn’t told me when.
–
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