This hollow once was filled with good things
Joy of ignorance...faith in hearts and meaning
It is just...well...hollow now
If time can fix it all, well
she simply
shuffles around too slowly
and doesn't really fix anyway
just deadens
There are the bits that cannot dull away
The ones each pile of human wreckage carries concealed
to visit secretly
Made worse, it seems, by knowing your poignant page
is just a footnote in some books
To manufacture nonchalance is a tough trade
For those unskilled in the art
like me
They say learn from your mistakes
But I do not want this lesson
Cosmos
When you get a chance
Cut me some slack
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