Vanilla Valhalla

I’m hear for you
But you’re saying nothing
I’m looking out for you
But you choose to disappear
And I fear, you think that progress

But I regress, having to digest your
true nature and I’d wager, you still
think me a homophone

HOLD THE LANDLINE, and pony up,
them their trigger words vault over
your vouchsafed safe space, yore
harpy hunting ground.


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