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waking up again,
for a ray of hope
or maybe because you are broke.

escaping the darkness,
for finding a light
or maybe enjoy a forgotten delight.

selling your soul,
for a piece of trash
or maybe just some extra cash.

playing with feelings,
for when you're bored
or maybe until you find the cure.

finding your place,
for a purpose you see
or maybe something that could make you free.

visiting your friend,
for justifying a means to an end
or maybe to pretend.

winding it down,
for finding some sleep
or maybe waiting for tomorrow's leap.

breaking the loop,
for some living
or maybe just being forgiving.
The state of what we call living now. I'm not worried, are you?
Do the seasons change
so that I don't have to?
People come and go,
sometimes for a reason
sometimes just for a season,
I'm here till I can be.
To be here as I am
I had to be there as I was
a perpetual dreamer
sometimes a singer,
but often a screamer
my ever-fleeting memory
of past life
feels like pollen in the beehive,
was I always the same
or just another empty name?
maybe asking questions
just made me mad,
as there were
days I've been sad
days I've been glad,
living was always the grey area
between good and bad.
it keeps me awake at night,
I try to escape but it holds me back
for all the things said and done,
I thought I could so easily run
away from it all,
but life holds you accountable
and I take full responsibility,
but it gets tiring
maybe I want to be happy
just for one day,
without having to think about
what ghost of my past
may show up tomorrow to play
for even though the days,
they come and go
as they please
without me in control,
what won't I give
to trade the dusky nightfall of yesterday
for the crack of dawn tomorrow
with that in my mind,
I try to live and grow
and I still cast a shadow,
that I may never outgrow
yet there is a light,
at the end of the tunnel
and I aspire to reach there someday,
for it may take away all the pain
and shine on like a crazy diamond.
There is a calming essence in letting go of your past, but it sometimes takes all fibre of your being and every once of your strength.

Listening to The Dark Side of the Moon again after ages.
I don't have
great inspiration,
very often,
to write
but when I do,
the site stops working.
Why do you do this HP?
A wolf in the jungle
Leaving my pack far behind,
I was howling for you.
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