At The End Of The Long, Long Hall

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Spinning wheel beneath my feet,Am I finally the one at fault?No, that's just my brain in your soft palm

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Spinning wheel beneath my feet,
Am I finally the one at fault?
No, that's just my brain in your soft palm.
That's just my heart in your closed fist.
I am built brick by brick with fairness.
Towards everyone but myself.
I put myself through you everyday.
My exit couldn't come soon enough.

E.

Yours Truly, MooncalfWhere stories live. Discover now