She stares at the ceiling until it is no longer visible
Closes her eyes due to the rigorous crucible
The tears fall down her burning cheeks
Staining the pillows of the meek
The speakers cry the sympathizing notes
Flows past the earlobes meanwhile it soaks
In her hand lies the familiar bounds of paper
Neighboring the led slayer
Her heart is released through her fingertips
Along follows her mind with each shift
The pressure is dismissed
Peace is to what her lobes commit
Her paper bound inhaler
All mighty emancipator
She being the creator
-Sugar.
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