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Apr 2017
Brittle memories play quietly behind my eyes
pieces quickly disintegrate,
like paper mache
on a rainy April day

I see snippets of my childhood days
in simple, basic shades of greys
and I'll never know just how to say
I love you
and I'm sorry things turned out this way

All the misplaced thoughts in my mind
have shifted shapes
and I no longer recognize my own brain
Arlo Disarray
Written by
Arlo Disarray  In your imagination
(In your imagination)   
601
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