more than just my own

not so long ago in split screen
as i see now in the closeness of memory
a story of vanity depicted
in the beginning
a hopeful stream
of waters and pastures green
i gave a part of me
a reckless abandonment
to beauty
and yet somehow
with words as i try to describe feeling
there are none really that could
convey meaning
and in honesty as vast as the sea
the light of day seems to elude
the very thing i was once chasing
a desintigrating
depiction of a fading dream
i lose myself in the desert of misery
hold me close
oh hands that lead
to grace
swallow every known wound
that traps me like a cocoon
and yet my past
seems like treads of hope
tracks that would lead
me to see something more
than just my own.

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