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Synesthesia
At the edge of silver, a tear slips down my face turning into splashes of gold
the center of boredom is the brain unlocking its freedom.
At the top of tomorrow waits at the bottom of yesterday.
The swirl of loneliness sounds like an ocean wave crashing down the surface that
if you look underneath peace, you might hear chaos forming,
So when you tiptoe through the Valley of Happiness, you might find sadness dips of grass
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