Desolate


Walking down the streets with my hands behind me.
Thinking of the same days of the year before.
Sinking in the memories that tie me.

The smell of the wind and its aftertaste,
The sharp scream of excited children,
The rosy cheeks of teen lovers,
The broken memories of yester-year torment me.

Goals and dreams lost in the cold,
Thoughts and wishes of the dry Christmas sand.
They wish for the rain to hold them.
I wish for the rain to comfort me.

This day yester-year with her,
My heart was at ease with smiles,
My thoughts were simple desires.
All lost in just 12.

At the end of my path, I sigh,
Now, where do I go from here?
Who do I turn to for help?

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