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You scratch your head, I stretch my hair

The last sip of water...

I'm waiting for drinking another bottle of wine

I do not need answer but I keep asking why

My facial features are stirred up into a coma

Our god does allow me to continue

loving..

But my reality talks me into letting go.

You head is not that rational, but

why you insist that hardship is always hard?

I do not want to give up, the same as the fact

that I do not want to keep up.

You do not wash your hair, unclean

I wash my hair every so often, the result is the same

Stretch my hair.

my five fingers stretch the ends of strands...

Memories do not slip through...

but hair drops, adding more miseries

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