Yet another day fades into oblivion Yet another sunset shows itself for the metaphor of endings being beautiful Yet another beautiful pattern in the evening sky was left unseen And here they said time flies, so dear, doesn't it? I dare not utter what's bothering me yet again and that being said, poetries exist, written in pain by those who're left for no reason, so dear, how on earth would I make my poems beautiful ever again? knowing you had all the reason and rhythm, to leave me. PS: snap memories suck, don't they? . -kashika
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