eyes piercing my soul,
hitting hard and years for now bleeding infinitely
there's a stream of blood running unto the abyss of memories,
there you go,
with the fathom of perplexities and anxieties.
remember the story he once said,
(...).
"the wind disentangles itself from your frenzied body as hurricanes of dreams follow me."
yeah, the world is not enough for us.
and it was snowing on the Chapel Bridge,
do you still hear that echo, poet singing,
"grow old along with me,
the best is yet to be."
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