Digging Under My Own Dirt

Whatever you remember
Pass it under the table
So I can keep it for myself
I have secrets
Which I sell for tips

I sing songs of victories
Sometimes just over my own desires
I write verses of hope
That I make it through the next time I sit down to write a poem

I was born in the afterlife
I was raised in infinity
I was brought face-to-face with death in the present
And I want to go back to the beginning

Some who knew who I was
Remember the hope I used to have
And what I hold up now
Is the hope that hope returns

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