The days are going by,
one by one,
out of reckoning,
into the realm,
of half finished broken songs.

The past is nothing,
but a string of regret,
wishful thinking,
with moments of brilliance,
mistaken sorrows.

Would we go on?
On this road to extinction,
Or would we,
help one another,
To sing a new song.

I guess I can be hopeful,
of forgetting the forgotten,
and remembering the ones at hand,
But such hope seems a folly,
So I wish you a happy extinction.

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