To my other me

Oh, my dear Sofie, a very trusted accomplice in having stolen my heart so quickly,
that I write this all down inside the unreachable recesses of my failing heart, to the
stealing of my long-time forgone youth, those very dreams same, my hopeful
tomorrows from which born today, in the faraway midst of my own suffering
tribulations, that wander like a lost shadow to those crowded empty stars having
no longer any substance like once before.

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The reality of choices