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Today shall be how yesterday was
Tomorrow will be much the same
And every day shall be as history is played
Until the decision is made
To try another game

I see no difference
More a change in preference
The reasons for and the reasons against
Now just a point of reference
The power never shifts
And the balance never tilts

There are no secrets
No great conspiracies
The truth is out there
It's written in manifestos and policies
Entrenched into the laws
To which we abide
And helping the aggressors,
The instigators of our realities
To run far and hide

The eternal
The infernal
The dictator
The navigator
Bare faced and brazen
In the fields you work
Unlawfully grazing

What can we do
When all the time
Old becomes new
A life on repeat
In constant retreat
With no holds barred
And battled scarred
Take note, take heed
I will not bow down
And accept defeat
Through the echoes of my mind
I'm running fast
I'm running blind
It's the memories
That tend to please
But the darkness does remain

The echo of my youth
The ringing of the truth
Forgotten are the days
When we moved in different ways
But the spirit lives on
With age it grows strong
Keeps you on track to the sane

An echo of guilt
Here the psyche takes a slight tilt
There were some bad times
Some emotional crimes
Fortitude become a great point of reference
Mixed up in a world of decadence
The black dog no longer feeding the pain

The echoes that bring that surreal smile
The one that stretches , mile upon mile
It feeds and nurtures, clothes and warms
Helps guide us through those perfect storms
A life built around the echoes that you made
A life of reason as the light begins to fade
Reverberation
Holds the fascination
The echoes never cease
As you rest in eternal peace
 Oct 2019 Akira Chinen
Madeysin
I’ve never danced with my demons, only begged and pleaded for them to let me stand on my own two feet. But I’ll bury my head in the sand and listen to the music of the ****** that is my favorite karaoke.
 Oct 2019 Akira Chinen
Madeysin
I’d like to apologize for the skin I’ve separated. Severed and fileted in vein, literally. For the water fall rush of warm liquid that fills my palm, but doesn’t quench my thirst. For the pain I can’t carve out and can’t seem to get enough of. For the Carnegie that is my bathroom floor, an ice skating rink for the depressed.
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