The past is like a broken bird
Now it lacks the strength to fly
But still it wanders forever in our sight
And although it cannot reach us
Nothing will stop it's will to try.
The past is like a fallen flower
Now it lays in tears and shame
But still it grows hour by hour
And rests in our fears
The long lost lure of the languishing pain.
The past is like a mellow man
Who seems to fade until I close my eyes
And then I realise that he mocks
Because he can
And that he is just the future in disguise.
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