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the Endless Walk

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The Lies of my past are crudely splattered like paint
They drip and smear and blend
and strike harsh contrast against the white of it's former wall-
I lay choked on the chill
that creeps in from cracked windows
You had once again forgotten to close so long ago,
and that I cannot bring my self to touch it's sill,
Thrown down belly up in disbelief that life regains composure,
it remains in spite of the disbelief in your absence,
The empty fog of the woods dim shadows,
against the trunks I wander alone,
This is my heart.

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