I miss you so,
I don’t want to.
But I don’t know,
why, I do.
Its hard to feel,
yes indeed.
Its hard to see,
why, I do.
When i saw,
those misty eyes,
those misty dreams,
I saw,
I was
afraid, to wake from that dream
it was but broken
alas.
In some adventures,
I seek to un-paint,
the painted melodies,
and still
I wonder,
what pulls me on,
to these forsaken rhapsodies.
This past is gone,
I want it to go,
but still I don’t know,
why, I do.
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