In remembrance of me,
I am constantly thinking of you
how happy you made me
I can't tell you because I am afraid that will hurt you.
I have to live in the now,
but the melancholia is hunting me
like an old friend I used to know
who was constantly judging me.
Remembrance can be hunting
like a dream that follows you constantly
a surrounding haze that is invading
every part and vacuum despondently.
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