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The Weeping
I don't weep for the could have beens
Lost to Winter's first kiss.
Nor hold sacred remember whens...
'Know I must live with this.
The stars refuse to shine at night,
Lost to this darkened haze.
No soul guidance to gift with light
My path of wasted days.
Won't weep for stories never told
That only lived in dream.
The mind grows tired, emotions cold,
And dreams aren't all they seem.
That shiny spot upon my soul—
Those dark speckles on eyes,
Blend a chaos beyond control...
Alas, all I touch dies.
That pale white skin ablaze on black,
I cast it to the void.
Can't weep things I would not take back,
Or those better destroyed.
The world is not a solemn place,
It holds no sanctity.
Nor relevance but for a face
I'll never again see.
...And yet the sobering truth burns,
Was I who walked away.
Still I won't weep the heartfelt yearns
That cry from yesterday
But pace myself and glide daily
Twixt here and nevermore.
Knowing it's not things I'll never see,
But do, that I weep for.
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