This summer spent working elsewhere is done and I,I have returned to a lull, a neap in the tides of progress to
This place alone.
Hope was to earn these months the hard will to gather
The glass shards I sleep with and through this fiery drought,
Reshape my metal.
Brittle the glass of my heart, yeah molten would easier mold,
But this anguish of soul, heralded by loneliness, can not break easy
Past the solitude.
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