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Pry
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Rain on my roof, constant tapping, sounds like there’s invaders outside
always marching, always shouting, pouring down hour glass counting
Half dissected, introverted, I don’t mean to pry
Past protracted, so exhausted, I don’t even try
Run my fingers on the railing, what its like to be wide open
Picture blurs out, voices get dull, time is traveling in slow motion
Such sharp words, pinpoint precision
Gentle glances, deep incisions