Praise the thousand deaths of broken dreams

Praise the drowning of a thousand screams as they are made null and void by friendly laughter

Backwards trees in the forest of the somewhat damned can’t see you recover

When they fall, you don’t hear them, because you are gone.

They still fall though, herculean in nature.

And haughty in their boasting, which is quite empty.

However, you are not here so give thanks for abandonment.

Wherever you happen to be, I want to be there in your forest of the lost.


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