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by Me
Rated: E · Poetry · Dark · #1856451
This poem turned out to be something competely different then it was intended to be.
Ode To....


Your face sorrow unseen,
  To lay there dreaming those nights -
Chasing memories of the past.
  To wake up wishing you were still dreaming -
Of a present that echoed the past.
  This past, sorrow unseen -
Always unseen on face and heart.


~Me~
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