gone are the traces of my existence that i ecked out in a prior life.
the scars on my wrists are mere faint memories of the pain i self-inflicted in an attempt to cleanse my pores of the disease
i found myself caught up in the ebb and flow of life without ever having taken the time to just chill
and breathe
so now i sit back and reflect upon the days of my youth that helped mold the boy into a man to stand firm on his own two
until i look up at the mirror and see his image in me and then question the truth
who am i to teach if i ain't done learning
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