Like the blowing wind,
Eternally eroding the surface it touches,
Bitter comes to be the after taste of joy.
Like the unceasing waves,
Repeatingly bashing against the rocks,
What's left behind is nothing
But a foaming memory dripping slowly
Into the ocean's oblivion.
It's then that critical thought does not yield,
And while life carries on,
It locks the inevitable conclusion of my fears
In the front seat to keep me company.
What awkward companion then rides along
With my dreams and me towards this unknown destination.
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