I’ve come to the end of my days

My little short fuse of a time is to fly

stopped searching for the cave in which it lays

all my sorrows, where the last tears are drawn from 

where all the pictures of the past have lost their smile

where the black ink has started to dry 

It is but a scissor I need to cut off this red 

To let it breathe with a new breath so fresh

To...

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