The incandescence of a shattered dream,
Ruptures like a dying star,
A million miles away.
These sterile clocks holding onto memories,
From forty years ago,
A rerun on repeat.
Life in not a tv show,
No happy ending guaranty,
So change the channel and forget,
The next one could be me.
Eh, I don't really like this one.
-Sir Jestro
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