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Poetry

Thoughts on Waking

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Forced into my dreams, now,
From where you come, I know not how,
With soft beckons to a time before,
On waking I just beg for no more,

Time should heal, as one always thought,
But the presence in my mind has not yet hit naught,
Should the blame be on me for these things that occur?
Or can I shift it outside and pin it on her?
Either way I know that I have to expect these things,
And the pain that my past never fails to bring.