It happened something like this...
We met. Not consequential, not without meaning.
Lost. Eyes, fires, and road signs.
Still looking. Frantically searching for that one true.
You. Standing there, 1,000 yard stare.
Dare. Yes, found, happy, safe.
I wish I could say that was it. Stream of consciousness poem? I'm not sure where to go from here, so I'll keep walking, off into the squandered light of a dieing star. Hell, rise up, for you'll find no resistance here. It's already lost...
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