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Rated: 18+ · Other · Cultural · #1510380
Homeless, helpless & wasted on a cold, dark easter day...
Did you ever see the freeway, from the bottom of the money, that you spent, on the Angel that fell? And no-one seems to notice, the thumb that begs for a ride. If you can't manage the shame, then you lost yourself in the wind, that carries the blame. Regret, is the only company you seem to keep. Why would it matter, that the ride would end, and your soul lost its chance, to mend. Just let it go, you'll eventually know, that your time is now, surely at hand. Just when it seemed, you were getting it down, your burnt by your own enactment, and you can't get it out of your mind. You want it to go, but the pain seems to grow, and welcome another breakdown.

So what did you find, in the person that you recreated, and your old self is tied to that same ball and chain. Your daydreams don't pay, and you go out of your way, and public parks become your new grave. It's nice, just to know you've been there before, and the word on the street is "sometimes we all lose our way", but you just decided to stay.

I'm sorry I said it, and now I regret it, "I wonder if your worth all the tears", cause your darkest hour seemed to last so damned long, In fact it's still running, strength is a goner, there's not the bridges to burn in your final plunder. So let it all go again, and again it's destin to be there in your dying days. There won't be trumpets, internments or speeches. You reap and you sow, just like, the good book, it teaches. There's nobody left, in your treasure chest, so box up your things, and clean out your desk, you lost all your senses, and they built fences, to keep your kind out...
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