I was taking down some memories. They were old like dank decay.
A haunting hanging nostalgic romp, that had more than had her say.
There was no peace or harmony. Just a path without a sign.
We got to travel that way once. You went your way, I went mine.
There was this thing for beauty. That used to be the rule.
Not a curse I’d wish on anyone, but I used to be that fool.
There’s a virtue called forgiveness. I’ve been drinking from that glass.
There’s a dot on that horizon. Give it time. This too shall pass.
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