One more detrimental morning
with the same old mood and pain of mourning.
The clouds in my head continue storming.
It's always raining. It's always pouring.
I should have heeded weather warnings
of the red flags I've made a habit of ignoring.
It's my fault in the end for my consorting
with succubi who are only fit for whoring.

.
.
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— © think twice
{star charts & broken hearts, part two}