The ghosts of tomorrow grow stronger,
As my shadow begins to fade.
The thunderous torrents may never cease;
The moorings draw nigh, yet I still have no peace.
It’s not giving up,
I’ve run out of ways to fight.
Beat-up — worn down by the constant pain; penetrating — exchanging darkness for light.
I no longer see the colors,
Only different shades of the same gray.
My eyes have become blinded to what I have, by the regrets of yesterday.
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