Cold Poem by Austin Moore
Cold
Your fingernails dig deep through my flesh
The cold breeze drags me out of my sleep
There is nothing besides who we are
This twisted world has come to an end
My only regret; my need to pretend
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: sleep
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8/28/2026 4:43:16 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
