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you live in a room without chairs or a bed

the tree in the yard has a dark red heart

you live with a mattress you keep on the floor

you hear it at night

it talks in its sleep

it makes accusations

it’s thin and it snores

your hair is white

your fingers are black

your face has a string that ties in the back

you hear violins

they used to sound sweet

the flies in the sugar bowl used to be meat

the tree in the yard has a dark red heart

you sleep like a man who lives without hope

a man who had faith he traded for rope

your eyes became white

they used to be green

the secrets you shared became secret police

now the violin music stops at the door

you live in the world with a mattress that snores

a face you can’t see on the back of your head

and you live with a heart

that used to be red.

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