Cubicle
The computer hums
A simple monotone tune
Suicide seems nice
Nights End
Is is the nights end
They are leaving this place now
But where will I hide
Cycles
In one, out the other,
Just to complete the circle,
But I stop halfway
Waking
The birds are chirping
The morning peeks through the shades
and my tea is sweet
Phone Jack
I can't hear your voice.
Why do you keep calling me?
There is no phone here.
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