by the weight of his echoe
from yesterday's cry.
How he mistrusts those
characters he created
so long ago, and now
how he carries them
behind him. In front
of the world, he drags
that dog, a fierce beast
he hasn't loved since
it was murdered by his future.
Oh, and how he floods
the past, tying the weight of
his tears to the airy
reverb of his laughter. Never hearing
the truth he seeks to speak,
he lies down into the night.
The night, where we all meet
blurs of yesterday and tomorrow.
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