March 20, 2011
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I watch the ashes fly within the wind.
Left over remnants of my own sweet mind.
Once ink upon burgundy paper,
Now black and grey particles no more and no less.
Once I would have said never would they burn.
Placed inside a tin can a match dropped within.
Used to erase what I hope to forget, used to take away
All of the pain, all of the memories, all of the time.
Happy times and bad times mixed into one.
Taken away flying in the wind.
Never to be read and never to be seen.

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