nights

singing to the stars

looking out over the ocean

waiting for lightning to strike

bright up the sky

profound things to say

expounding to silence

no one to hold my hand

wait for me to cry over

genius spilt on the sand

whistling to the wind

knowing everyone must die

& until then

bored

bored again

no one to appreciate

nowhere to go

be received

no majesty

for this jester in the night

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