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BOY.

BOY.

Watching the memories on a cold winters day
Of a life just begun, of understanding to gain
It seems so piquant that I am still young
Not the innocence that once was truth
But cynical in irreverence to the cause.

In the eyes of a small child
The world was writ larger than life
Out there was the good, inside the evil.

Opening up Pandora’s box
Opens the floodgates to emotions long repressed
I have no heart to lie and no vindictiveness
But I am only a product of these, my memories.

They laugh as the eight flickers by
Calling on heaven to explain their appearance
Talking so wistfully of pain no longer remembered
They wish for the better times they never had.

How can I sleep on a day meant for joy
What is the cost of a notion of a boy?
Time has dissipated all but the ash
Not laid to rest like all our past fears
But regurgitated like sick to haunt the malaise.

Weary of hope for hopelessness
Seen in the eyes of an innocent mind
I cry a tear for my human fear
Not of tomorrow, nor for myself
I cry for the chance to set us all free.

Look, let the shadows, of time be gone
Always to stand in the here and now
Older yet younger than ever before
Afraid of the distance we put between.

I can no longer make no stand
Must die for beliefs I no longer hold
Though my eyes spoke of wonder
They sought to deny
But seeing is so much believing
If only the belief could be false.

GRUM

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