Minimalist melancholy in the vein of José Gonzaléz
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She tries to catch her breath
running out on life again
in her head it's raining
hasn't stopped for days
she wonders why
why things they never go
the way she thinks they might
instead they fall apart
she blames herself
then blames her life
She looks at the phone
with no-one there to call
she puts it down
and picks it up
then lets it fall
The day has passed
she lies on her bed
stares at the wall
too tired to sleep
to do a thing instead
It's 3 am
she wanders 'cross the room
stands by the window
stands shivering,
so young, so cold, so thin
outside the clouds are still gathering
yet winter's already in