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B.E. Webster

Open Eyes
I’m missing your closeness
The sheet covered in frost from lack of

Black Sheep
I’m counting
Exiled from your graces

Wasn’t I your amazing?
Tossing, no salad greens
Turning, no valid means
To rest

You terrorize me
In the moonshine
Even affect me
In the noontime

I’m exhausted

My heart strings
Out of tune

How do I soothe
My mind
To snooze

Never you mind
I resign
To unrest

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