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 Harry Sweeden. My life in verse.

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Leaving nothing...


How soon the sunset, once treasured as a dreamer
brought forth shadows of memories long lived
leaving nothing but echoes to cry into the wilderness
leaving nothing of  self left to give.
How soon the sunrise, once filled with life's splendour
exposed only dark skies so torn
leaving nothing of beauty to greet me at daybreak
leaving nothing but truth yet unborn.
How soon my sad heart gets broken into pieces
fragmented become all of my dreams
leaving nothing but tear drops to reflect my misgivings
leaving nothing that reminds me of me?







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