I am closed.
The ache is real
I long to be loved,
But it's loneliness I feel
The trumpet is sad.
The trumpeter dead.
Melancholia;
Blue tinted sadness and dread
My heart is heavy:
Aching, lonely, cold
Openness is fear
Laced with winks of old.
Is this my making?
I'm stuck...fully exposed.
I can't find the key.
I am closed.
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