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I miss the old, familiar scent of joy. these days have ran away from me
not leaving a sign of "I'll be back" or perhaps a souvenir in the dark.
No, but rather thoughts were made to consume me wholly until i become nothing
but shatter memories and regrets ,slow images building partnership with my mind
So clocks begin to tick and tock
And I know that every tick,
is every misshapen scars that i never knew how to close.
and every tock,
reminds me of the times I thought i would suffocate, but it kept me strong.

If you ask me how i feel, i would dig into old shoe boxes, open up
my chest a tiny bit and make sure my heart is beating its proper way.
But my body is an ancient corpse,
dancing roughly with the wind, beating my skull against dry mud,
so maybe i could learn how to be
And not how to feel because i twirl with comfort too easily
It reels me in just as quickly but i can't ever find the remedy so i end up decaying
then placed into a coffin, dark and shallow.

My eyes fixed into empty promises
begging you to take notice, i folded these ideas of me and him away.
Glimpses come and go, they take every direction, so i shouldn't
worry who looked my way, but who took the time to examine my days
Those days were the tide was too high and my soul too calloused from believing
in deceiving eyes, where imagination touched reality and i stopped looking
for reasons that lead into harsh roads, with no destination in mind.
Who would have known. I am beginning to endure.





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