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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #933431
When Tomorrow is Tomorrow
Regret
the man I am
the man you were
songs sung with the winded woods our orchestra

There were times in this life
where a man could feel
almost in tune
almost right
Like a man he wishes he was
like a man who is gone

Songs last lifetimes
outlast voices, outlast their ideas
faded memories endure only long enough
for one to cry a bit now and again

Sadness is merely the breath
of the upright corpse of still nothingness
a way to give life
a way to understand
what it is to be
at one with something that no one knows

Regrets
are a flittering note
lost in the soul
lost in the battle for one's breath
You cannot be gone
just emptiness
a solemn long forgotten song

Shall it one day be rewritten?
The hymn of the world deserves nothing less
but the silence holds the answer
as the question stretches infinitely into the horizon
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