I don’t want a name that I’m alive when I’m dead on the inside…
I don’t want to be the picture of passion as barren bones lie silent inside…
How easy it is to find myself here enclosed by veiled disgrace…
Shouting out loud it whispers within; how soon I’m this mausoleum of vainly kept face…
Would you awaken me; your slumbering bride? Would you rescue me from self-rendered solace? I just want to feel the breath of your mouth breathe these dry bones back to life…
I don’t want a name that I’m alive when I’m dead on the inside…
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