The Stories in Our Heads
tell us to smile
or they whisper sadness
into our souls
They take away pain
And all those things
real or imagined
Why do they keep playing
like a wounded song
or a melancholy melody
We can’t turn them off
So, we listen…
over and over
again
And our dreams get mixed with nightmares
There is no heaven
There is no heaven.
I like this, great work.
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Thanks River
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You’re welcome.
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