it's a gamble, it always is
standing in wet cement and waiting
for you to pull me out
you are the young one and I
should not count on you
midnight soaks my eyes in ink
and I make lists as I sit
counting the lessons I've lost
nothing sticks like it ought to
I should remember to forget
at the end of the day
we all carry mudslides on our shoulders
we all carry someone else's luggage
I am tired but I would be
your bag boy if you let me
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