Before This Time
No morning to brand beautiful,
nor a day fruitful.
Long nights of terror,
with every dream a living horror.
A closest friend- fear
loyal to the grave of a career.
Tarnished is everything touched,
and flames of fragility emerged.
The growing darkness in every desire
and twisted trust in a pair.
These were the then times,
when every living day was a dying note.
Surviving was not enough,
as every stone got rough.
I needed to live again or at least start,
learning the hardest thing is...
to take a step from a prying past.
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