I've been here before: so down, so low. I’ve been here before: like the deepest caves of the mountain sides, like the lonely candle in the darkest corner of the night. I've walked these roads, I made these roads; I live alive in the past. I've walked these memories before; I've been here before and every day I wonder why, Why am I here? Why do I sacrifice a normal day to relieve the past?
And each day I relieve, I step back to say to myself, "Go back," live today. These roads are only stones on the road of misery, and while I skip to the beat of the street I see a stone and pick it up, wondering where I should have been. Like the clouds I disappear when it gets too gloomy for me to comprehend.
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