It is probably a good thing that no one will ever get to read this and even if they do, it is better they do not know me.
Why, I was the one always with the lamp and the fire
helping the other
pursuing the other shamelessly
Then, I lay the bed
I set the night,
I make the music
and I light the fire
I run out of wood, no more fuel
No one present to offer me half of what I gave
I have nothing left
Those who said they would stay
have long gone when I could not light the fire
Here I am, looking over and seeing
the remains of nothing
Yet, still in search
I see a flame in the distance
I walk, no matter how long it takes
I think I am reaching
I have reached
But it is gone
Gone elsewhere, to set the night for another...
I smile, tearing
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