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Sunday

The rain has stopped
The clouds still linger
The temperature drops
But what does it hinder?

Sundays, that slow day
That both ends and begins the week
A day that i spend miserable and meek

Staring up at dark ceilings
Watching them as the paints peeling
What’s left to do, while so void of feelings

I guess it’s time too relax
For tommorrow is going to make even a bland Sunday
Sound like a good time

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