Inspiration taking it's form,
When another door has closed.
Memories can't be erased,
because those words were spoken.
Greasy fingerprints,
lining the photos edge.
A photo of such magnitude,
that I break down and cry.
Let's burn it to the ground,
I weep as I drop the flaming portrait to the floor.
How could you hate the one thing,
That made you who you are..
The tears put out the flames,
standing here burnt but still alive.
No sparkle no sheen no lusty eyes,
Just me stuck between,
a promise...
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