we never really see

the day arrived a little sad
the heart full of desire
Is crying again with pain

so many roads still to trod
so many places still to see
so many memories still to be
so many wishes still to suffer
so many dreams yet to breathe

the abuses done
still to repent
mistakes we made
still to get their just rewards

doesn’t happen any more
how do we do it all
i sleep, i wither, i weep

writing on these sheets with a stub of black pencil
held in my fingers
pencils are little
in these little insane increasing stains
we breathe

fingers writing
are these my own
we never really see
who wrote who typed who read
all we see is the stain
it remained
while the memories burned


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