A poem of mine.

Fearing the non-love,
as I ignore the feelings yet another night.
Fearing the non-love,
as I drop the battle and hear the sound.
Hated and feared, I take my next breath.
My life is no longer here by my side,
and for years I have fought for the past to return.
And even though it won’t return,
I hope,
I wish,
I beg,
I see the past return in my dreams.
Every time I drop the bottle,
I see the past in my dreams.

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