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The Path
May 18, 2014
Go back, they said, to the door between shadows.
Where nobody recognizes you crying.
his eyes an ancient fire.
Singing of memories best forgotten.
Pulling out the map, torn with age.
Your life laid out; you know the way.
Your residence is your memories,
Hanging from a single glowing string in the dark.
Run, because that was nobody's home.
© Casey P., Howard, OH
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