poem written just now...

Nacon

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    Years
    I"m unable to sleep, and I felt like writing something... lemme know what you think:


    coldness includes the lack or an embrace from a hug,
    the on going absence cannot be fought by a simple shrug,
    because, yes, another person's warmth gives comfort like a drug,
    addictive and provides more comfort than ale in a mug.
    the warmth's absence provides more irritation than a bug,
    and no matter how much I fight it, I simply give the resistance a tug
    the need for it and the denial played is all hidden underneath the rug,
    and not matter how deep I bury it, I've failed hiding what I've dug,
    all because what I try to hide grows heavier than what I can lug,
    everything moves way too fast while I pace around like a slug,
    and in the end, if I was to find a solution, I know what hole I can plug.
     
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