By: Kevin Magnus
Relaxations visits in a soft flow.
At this time of the day, people sleep,
But for me I seek what I can reap.
The flute finds its way into my soul,
But with a job I must do and scroll.
While the drums feel like a lullaby
Unaware of the hours that roll by.
Sound of silence weighs on my subconscious,
I remain awake which is atrocious.
Eventually, I am lost in the void's prize,
Too far from me, I continued on with tired eyes.
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