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I live my life in the passage of days,
in hopes that tomorrow will be something to praise.
Stuck in dreams of lovers past,
Silent apologies, unforecast.
Trapt within the passage of time
unable to move, encased in rhyme.

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The most fantasical truth of all: There is no meaning to any of this.


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The following comments are for "Passage"
by Gothicdustin





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