December 29

There’s no darkness in you could make me cower in fear
No mistake you’ve made that I don’t want to hear

You can’t be too loud or too big, too real, or convoluted.
There can’t be too much intensity I would need muted.

Like cinnamon, you’ve learned to give just a bit to each person
Because your fire’s too hot
And I’m sure that you’ve burned some.

150 150 Stafford Wood
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