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The Hyde in Me.

Lost my voice to scream a lullaby.

If i were a musician singing on the street I would probably get stones thrown at me. I be my imaginary audience.

If I were on the street playing an instrument. A passerby or two, would stop to listen, that’s about it really.

Backburners, scattered cards. things that happen in the past, I believe you came for a reason, that’s to ruin me, to bring me down to tears and draw scars and bruised knees, but You picked me up and made me turn again.

Now reality is here, knowing it will be a pebble off the shoreline, worn down to a sediment in the sands, lost in the depths of Mariana’s Trench, washed up in the seashore by night. High, dry, beached in the burning sun.

Oh how cruel when everything is just a beautiful portrait of your disguise,

a facade that’s what it has been all along. Little did I know I have been deceived

to believe , that is so cruel and deceitful.

When I fade out from the forefront, how would I have wanted to be remembered?

Did I live the life meant to be for me? Heck, I could easily let my impetuous self go,

to hear the recalcitrant cold chill whispers, transcending goosebumps up my spine,

to let go of the rope that burns my hands. The struggle to live and hold on

to a hope for better days to come.

This is the Hyde of me.

Triggered by the past, fueled  the burning chambers of sorrows and wounds.

A civil war bared and fated to my hands and from within me, a burden to bear.

~Reach for the Sky~

Dan

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