Saturday, June 1, 2013

It's the prospect of wasted time Finding no reason for spent frustrations. Dreams forever gone by my own hand. reflections no longer shows my face as everyone else can be seen in the mirror of what use to be. The knowledge that I exist but yet I am hollow and empty like the thrown away piano that can no longer find its tune to play fruitful music heard only to my ears. The prospect that life was not given to me to freely live, as I am only the giver. A shadow follows me throughout my day, I turn around to see my face fading away.

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