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Tags: life, sadness


As I pen this tome,

I once again,

Find myself alone.


When I was young,

I had such dreams,

I wasted them all,

Falling apart at the seams.


My life was lived,

In parceled moments,

The ones I loved,

Became opponents.


The joy within,

That young boy’s laughter,

Became cries to the man,

Losing what I sought after.


What chance had I,

Being the likes of me,

For who could place value,

On a mud-crusted penny.


I forlornly watched,

As the roses bloomed,

Knowing already,

That my own garden was doomed.


I failed that boy,

As a man, I couldn’t see,

That I lived down,

To my own prophecy.


He kneels head down,

I let his laughter go to waste,

Angry at the man,

For a life, he’ll never taste.


The boy that once was,

Became the man that I am,


Forever damned.


This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2010-2040 LDJohnson (Dreamcatcher) - All rights reserved, including all copyrights and all other intellectual property rights in the contents hereof.

The contents and composition herein are not to be copied, reproduced, printed, published, posted, displayed, incorporated, stored in or scanned into a retrieval system or database, transmitted, broadcast, bartered or sold, in whole or in part without the prior express written permission of this author.

Unauthorized duplication is strictly prohibited and will be considered illegally plagiarized and subject to any or all damage claims, and is an infringement of National and International Copyright laws.

This composition may have been inspired by something seen or heard at a time or place heretofore forgotten. In all cases, credit has been attempted to be properly given and when so given, shown as a note or in footnotes. Failure to give proper credit is a mere oversight and/or unknown to this author and not an intentional act.

It is intended to reflect an original work of fiction or based upon personal experiences. Names, characters, places, and descriptions of incidents are products of this author's imagination, fictitiously expressed, personal experience expressed either in detail or loosely referenced, or merely the humble opinion of this author. Any similarities to actual persons or events are coincidental and subject to this author's determination.

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