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    To everything you never gained,
    And every wrong you’ve never named,
    And every tear you’ve let them shed,
    Over a body who truly isn’t dead.

    Wake up to a new sensation
    To the realization that we’re becoming new.
    Wake up to the reality of a world
    Where they know your name.

    Thanks for joining us here
    Where we’re never quite clear
    On the meaning of right and wrong
    And all those grey lines in between.

    They’ve seen through all our lies,
    Shattered all our broken sighs,
    And taught us to be real
    In a world that’s not.

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    Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

    Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

    heartspillsover’s Poems (16)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Dead Dreams 4
    Hallucinogen Honey 2
    Night Terrors 5
    Motions of a Final Day 7
    Death 4
    Becoming New 3
    My Shadow 4
    New 0
    Momma's Lullaby Song 2
    All For Me 0
    Forgotten 1
    A Series of Shorts to a Friend 0
    Internal Blue Wind 2
    Without Changing 4
    Beautiful Day 1
    Do you wait for me? 1