The pit-pats on the steaming concrete blend and blind. Walking away from a taunting familiarity pries at my very existence: no amount of cheap alcohols will dry the tears or make you the person I once knew.
Trotting on only God knows what terrain, I eschew any memories that'll have me on a counterproductive path. Trekking on my trail of tear. Rebuilding what you tore down.
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