30 past 9

the clock hits 30 past 9 at night
the house is still, void of life
my head fills with sounds of laughter
and my skin feels the ghost of the burning sun
i see their faces when i close my eyes
i hear their voices in my ears in the silence

nevertheless in that single moment
i can hear my mind whisper
i wish i was someone worth loving
i wish i was worth anything at all.

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