The evening haunts, the shadows cry
Each voice inside, won’t let you by
The tears, the pain, the weary sighs,
They fill your thoughts up ev’ry night.
The sadness just won’t go away.
If spoken of it everyday.
Cylical, looks as it may
‘The scars are fresh’ yes you may say.
But how can wounds be soothed and heal?
If still, cry so much for what you feel?
Can you not stick to what is real,
That they are not of the best deal?
The evening haunts, and so it will
Should rationality be killed?
Should you face the other cheek, and sigh
Thoughts will be filled up, by and by.
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