Traces And Shadows


Everywhere I look, there are traces and shadows.
Traces of the man I once was, shadows of the man I must one day leave behind.
But memories are often bitter frauds, plying us with regrets that were built solely upon mundane moments. Ones that distracted us through much of the day as we did our very best to cope.
And those second chances so often longed for? They’d likely have changed nothing at all


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