A walk in the opposite way

I quiver to the sound of the soft pelting rain, I sigh in mourning with each gathered cloud,
my heart is like churning thunderstorm, I am the product of yesterdays concert of remorse,
I live with this ticking time bomb in my head, my past having been revived by that one
adopted ghost, my wandering remnant of suffering in my despair, I cowardly seek shelter,
left within my lonesome shame, just barely thriving on this plain of misery, grieving,
robbed of my hopeful longings, clinging upon a waste of a good life.

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What respires mean to the solitude of love