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Rated: E · Poetry · Gothic · #1133480
What we all face at least once in our life.
Crossroads

Blue horizons linger behind
those paths never taken,
drifting into ashen clouds,
it's the essence of the mistaken.

Time is our only option here,
friends with past regressions.
We’ll linger in what remains,
submissive to true confessions.

Second guessing actions stand
like beacons to the forlorn.
Racking against conscious thought,
they break free and are reborn.

The past will always haunt us here,
conjuring things that should be buried,
urging invasions to continue on,
releasing emotions we have carried.

Yet, somewhere etched in canvas lies
our images of life’s perfection,
but lost in our own masquerades
are the lonely crossroads of reflection.
© Copyright 2006 Perpetual Shadows (justashadow at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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