It peels my eyes back; it inflames my skin orange.
It easily surrenders to the purest of thoughts,
but those, too, are frequently washed away
by the black ocean, which swings in,
and swings out, and swings in, and swings
directly into the back of the mind dam,
breaking forth to resound throughout
the realm of those still dreaming,
"I am so sorry, for everything."
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