He sits alone by a mailpost. trying to find some piece of mind. The ones he loved are left behind. But inside memories dance. But he can't bring them to life. But there stiill small voice is telling him of places relived. Somewher under his skin. Don't tak for granted what you had. Live for the now and never turn back. because life is a passing butterfly without wings. Chasing dreams left in the past. Of afflictions and desicions he chose to erase. But he cant intake whats been taken away. Its hasn't been that easy. You hear him sneezing on his way to L.A. The busy city the wild streets. Lights in his eyes. Telling him theres life after a crime. That he did not commit but he thinks he did. All the things he missed. The clues that gave it away. Can' t be reached because there missing in yesterday. He lays in the beach of city called mysery.The scenery leaves a sea you could never see. Caise its to far away. Lifes like a butterflying chasing dreams telling and speaking of things hes been before. But no longer. I wonder were he'll be next. We could never guess. Whereverhe goes i know its for the best. Cleaning up an act can make a mess. But will make amends.
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