33 Quartz
That’s not my house
I don’t live here
I see it I feel it smell it
Someone is close
Touching me, drawing my energy
Into hers, words spoken
I can’t react
Many tasks at hand
Grinding gears high on exhaust
Wooden timbers protruding above
Calm settles in
Seven gems of Quartz Drive
Are leaving always remember
This isn’t my house
I don’t live here
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