what if

what if we made our own film, a film of tragedy, of long nights, or lazy mornings, of a sad departure, and just excepted that it is better than a lifetime of empty pipelines
what if made our own song, a song of death and burn outs, of confused hearts, or weekend raptures, and just realizing the hum is company to the bum that cant rhyme
what if we danced our own dance, a dance for coffins and marriage beds, or a merry ring of dread, or just accepting the stillness instead

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