by Maria Crisafulli

I reach for those days. Who was I then? I wonder.

As the days dwindle to the last I cant help but die.

What I have known is no longer mine. A new beginning grows closer, my now, suddenly a fragile line.

A new ending in the making as I watch it all fade away.

In to the darkness, illuminated by the sunlight now. These days are endless, or so I thought.

All just a memory, memories of yesterday, the days we remember make up who we are today.

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Mar 11, 2012
by: Anonymous

You can not hide from the past but you can create your destiny indeed. Yesterday is history the only time is NOW.

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