We forget the lost before they've even vanished;
misplacing the time and remembering might-have-beens.
Each morning seers holes into our conscience,
reminding us of what's important, so we can misplace it before bed.
Our dreams begin to crystallize, hidden beneath a plain stone.
My eyes turn into kaleidoscopes and I watch, unshaken, as the world spins.
I will not remember this, tomorrow is a new day.
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