II. iii

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Tired.

I want to lie down

In the hall

And sleep.

Ignore the people

Walking over me.

Just like always.

Just make it home

Stumble over

Invisible hands.

Blue fog.

Not the navy.

Just a soft,

Sky

Blue.

Just make it home

Just make it home

The bus doors shut

I collapse on the seat.

Droopy eyes.

Exhaustion.

Sweet dreams

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