| Feasting eyes on wreckage that surrounds me
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| Makes me wonder if I ever learned to live
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| I have such little recognition
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| Of what I was when I could still see your face
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| The many flaws, of my own admission
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| A void supreme, I can’t pull away
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| This rite of passage
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| It took all of these years, but now I finally know
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| One question to ask of you
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| Did part of me die while watching you go?
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| In the soul, the frailty is seated
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| Gnawing doubts that I ever learned to live
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| Look upon the days since you’ve departed
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| My grand accounting of errances made
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| This ache, incessant once it started
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| As I espouse a meditation on decay
|
| This rite of passage
|
| It took all of these years, but now I finally know
|
| One question to ask of you
|
| Did part of me die while watching you go?
|
| This rite of passage
|
| It took all of these years, but now I’m finally shown
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| The cavity that grows within
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| Vacant space that was left a lifetime ago
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| Not fully alive
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| Just a shadow to be
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| Will I be revived?
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| Or transfixed in between |