Aftermath

It’s the moment caught on rewind,

In the recesses of the mind,

From the melencoly bloom,

Of the things left far behind,

As that resonating echoing,

That insomnia does bring,

To question all the pointless thoughts,

That you’ve been dewelling in,

Sadly, there is no switch,

That will allow the disengage,

When love has fled from your grasp,

And all that’s left is rage…

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