Cassarah

The path is long hard
But I still have to walk it.
At the end, maybe there is happiness
A bit more than I have now, maybe
More, but it this world pink roses are rare.
I can’t trace my steps,
Like déjà vu, it’ll lead to disaster,
If I look back, I’ll crumble
To pieces as the fallen dead leaf underfoot.
I lay with the earth, with the river will flow the sweet memories
Of the past and passions will burn to ashes, black.
When I walk this lonely path.

Cassarah

tntfiya

Richmond, United States

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