Crash into life,
Slap the worries,
Run away pain,
Everything is coming to a close.

Mean in short of we know,
Is a design we choice to notice to form to become.

Carry troubles with pride,
Speak in sliver lies,
And golden truths,
As a last breathe to have echoed within.

Fade into lack of sureness,
But reveal whole of honesty.

A style that is there,
But a fact of a logic,
That becomes a myth,
Is there . . .
Forevermore as a discolored scar upon the flesh!

Weak into tomorrow,
Tired of the now,
Aware of the yesterday . . .

It has come to this,
That we share,
Unspoken into the stone,
Where history lives,
But easily toss aside,
Just as easy those who blink at ease to the insane.

Come,
Become,
Leave,
Learn.

At the end of day,
That’s all there is,
When everything is not over played,
Learning is history.

A history that is hidden,
But out in the open,
Just look.

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