Buring rain,
What tears do remain,
Where yester year lies,
Do future pretense rise?
If I remain another year,
Will their be reason left still?
For reasons on this Earth we live,
That I need stay an believe,
That this will life be better received.
Then I should be left to only leave,
Or remain a shell of myself perceived,
A lone wandered in a land of the lost...
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Peace Of Mind? Or Pieces Of Mind?
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