I don't remember much about it
And I can't seem to find it anymore
Is it bottled or boxed or in
Brown paper packages anonymous
Right in front of me but can't see
High up on shelves I can no longer reach
Just out of touch with
No clue as to where it's to be found
I know know all too well it's anti-self
As familiar to me as the morning
As dead to me as the endless night
It haunts me in my dreams even awake
Like an old musty monk's cloak
Weighing me down heavier everyday
As if each day were now weighted
In the measure of my memories
I wish I could never remember
I believe if I could just find it again
For just a fleeting moment in now
I could fly a step forward instead
Of stumbling over my regret's corpses
And have an instant of lightness
Instead of the drudgery of the present
My anguished words mean nothing
To anyone but myself but not me
I am numb to everything around
Just wishing there was happiness.
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