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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