paint that picture, stashed away
rushing away life, with breaths deserved to be kept
and maybe someday
old originality burning away
a hole in a pocket, a hole in a heart
more beats losing life
but don't take that knife
the irony is, known but not really knowing
seen, but never really showing
and here today, take a stand
once in a lifetime, never given up a hand
never tucked away, or been drawn any truth
but here mold shall create
cheering on and pushing away
towards the finish line, away from that day
so paint what is seen, a second chance
that one day sucked it all out
gave up the one thing so longed for
that one thing was craved more
and did it all burn
that ornery, so unforgiving, a final plea
don't forget, paint that picture
stashed away, so longing for it shall be.
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