It's just a dusty floor with no brilliance
Sounds that no longer exist
Rust that creeks lost all benevolence
Memories that won't be useless

I love the floor where we danced to forget
And laughter ringing still clear
Words of joy are sharp and a threat
To a boy full of bad excuses

You sweep me up but, why?
I'm the editor of my self-destruction.
How could you love such as I?
But, I'll heed your faith built on my reconstruction.
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