Wake up, everything's fine. He's calm and measured.
Wake up, he's suicidal. Overdrank, overslept.
Wake up, everything's a crisis with no solution.
Wake up, things should be stabilizing, things should be—
Wake up, he's selling everything. He's moving to Tennessee.
He's up all night packing.
He doesn't see me. I do not exist,
but he still blames me.
I wake up, I count, I wait.
I ask anything that will listen,
how many more days until he wakes up
and everything is fine again?
Before and After

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[I believe in a thing called love]