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who knows where the time goes is echoing in my ears
i see photos of the boy who - me.
and i feel nostalgic.
i am not alone echoing in my ears
i see photos of the who i am now with
where the development goes
where the memories settle
where the stories shift and litter our mind trunks
this is all too honest and so not a poem. for me not a poem. this is nothing other than an entry of how i am in a moment of turmoil and i am being pushed in the deep.
i had once felt outside of the grasp of making for living but i now know i am no different and that i must make to live for it is all crushing. i enjoyed my suppression and miss her dearly. i want to find her today but have been told there is some greatness in the working and unwinding of our subtle emotional casualties.
i would like to quit school. this domain is not meant for all mothers. do not dare read here.
please. like a signoff.