Coffee stains that stripe the wall 
hid behind the bed 
whisper tales and messages,

echo in my head.
Coded in by gravity, 

drip on drip on drip.

You could almost miss them.

Stories scribbled by the dead.
Going to? Coming from? 

Hardly matters today.

It’s time to go. I know I know, 

but I just can’t look away.

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