It haunts me. My former spirit wanders the roads and green stormy fields. Whirlwinds come to the surface and explode into ideas. A sunshine bundling energy that makes life bright and thin.

As thin as ghosts are. The past and sleep sit on my shoulders. The twins – the twins of sometimes land.

Blurry mind spoiled all the tears. And eyes are left in pain. Like a ghost – in sometimes land.

Never tired sleep, that haunts my former land.

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