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Pools of Ash.

Rite of passage
has passed me by.
To have passed this on
would have not been right.

Be this madness
or the truth,
no sense in passing
this plague I live
on the outside, looking in
at a world
that seems so determined
to die.

All is right,
Pain well worth the conscience I satisfied.

Old flames
left to wither and die,
bridges burnt,
in these pools of ash
I dive.

Heart even more exhausted
than my mind.

Look away, now, ignore the itch,
the yearning here is so masochistic.
It would have been a mess
had I truly tried.

Useless daydreams, toxic feelings,
a role I was never ready to play
anyway.

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