untold stories forgotten by the author,
rabid cravings for companionship;
reminiscing on what once was,
the future holds no promises
bring back the days when things were much simpler,
colliding with the harsh realities of the present;
ruminating by his lonesome,
intrusive thoughts pestering him as the moon glows on his skin
regrets which are not able to be cleansed,
living through the painful nostalgia on repeat;
the sanctuary in which he has found himself residing within slowly crumbling,
unwavering melancholy as he asks the empty night sky for an answer
walk through the forest where empty souls wander endlessly,
stiff necks turning in all directions searching for kindred spirits;
ponder silently on the possibilities which were never achieved,
slowly accepting that the past is where it always will be
Young Osamu
smiles grow weary, eyelids closing;
the inability to laugh like we once did before
jovial on the surface, insides burning like a furnace;
we wonder why these events transpire
unable to breathe, drowning by the river;
searching for a place that we may call home
acceptance towards an idea, denial disappears;
embracing that we are
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