our lives are like gossamer smoke
diaphanous
speading in nooks and crannies we never know about
reaching people far and wide
people who inhale our smoke
acquire a shade of our hue
get tainted by our existance without us knowing
i have lost all color .. faded to that one distant hue that i picked up those small instances
how can the death of that boy haunt me so much?
how can the tragedy make my soul ache
when i have so much trouble feeling
in day to day jaded existance
what will happen when the few people i do let in these walls leave me?
i can't get hurt again
i'll break and shatter
like the last time
and i won't be able to put myself back together
i won't
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