tumbaderp • Words like a fine sand pour between the cracks of...

Words like a fine sand pour between the cracks of this weathered grey matter. Poetry unspoken, unwritten — beautiful lyrics imagined, rehearsed, then lost upon an absent mind.

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Midnight Sun

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“All men fear death. It’s a natural fear that consumes us all. We fear death because we feel that we haven’t loved well enough or loved at all, which...”

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