like reuniting with an old friend; uncovering things kept bust lost to time— seemingly returning to whence before, painting hurt with words and rhyme.
a fragment, still part of a whole, perhaps losing some was part of the course; the spark inside, still enough to combust: neither solace nor somber, a dwelling force.
Hi, It's Nes. It's really been a while, huh? If no one's around to see this then, I can't fault anyone. Here's to hoping the spark turns to a wildfire. I need it.