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  • Orange sands fulfill the cracks and indents in our shoes.

    Wandering through a life that we wanted to call our own. Spreading a film over the tracks we traveled, we did not cover out faces with dusty masks.

    Little did we want them to know how ungrateful our dreams have grown to be. A mountain, covered by a lucid dream--striving to climb with unbelief.

    Music piled into our ears which spit it back out with venomous curses. We want questions to be answered, to be curled with our hairs, blowing in an empty breeze. Sometimes we find that we hurt deeply beneath our fallen hopes.

    This was a time untold by tales, this was a snapshot of what we wanted to be ours. Concords played in melodies. We all desired to be Bards, picking our instruments to be used by only our own bloodied hands.

    Flipping the switch, we whisper and murmur tales of what we dream of seeing. We sung false tunes that cried of enjoyment
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