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by Royce Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #2182834
a poem about lost things.

We sit in idle daydreams of lost love
That has escaped decay and old age;
Glory days long past along with memory's touch
That lives in hearts that can't accept their fate.
Yet I condemn myself in pursuit of the fading
And reject death and exist without mortal rest;
I sacrifice to live in the past, to renew
The lives of moments where lovers were best.
And as the concrete remains the same for years
To come, long past its creators, since dusted,
I let the grasp of fate incite all fear,
And take refuge in their ruinous mess,
And search for the mask lost in the murk
To conceal my fate until I've earned my birth.
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