they chopped down the bushes outside my bedroom window silencing the chorus of birds that used to greet me in the morning
they closed down the comic shop down the street that was my favorite stop on wednesdays to chat about the newest books
the creepy house on top of the hill burned down where i used to sit and let the oddities in my mind come out onto the blank pages
the more things change the less i understand the inner workings of this mostly closed down world of broken promises around me
Story of my life.
All good things come to an end against one’s will.
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Ah, promises – looking back too many made, too many places, too many faces, not the same.
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agreed
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Yes, absolutely.
Sort of why I never make promises
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