Ghosts
S Sandra Osborne
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Not so different,
But the resentments
Are oh so real,
Hatred at the past,
With a frustrated future.
I try to forget it all,
The many colorless days
That have occupied
These last years,
Yet, they are always present,
With performances every night.
With my days
Filled with yesterdays
And last year,
I wonder sometimes;
If I believed
In the future more;
Maybe I would believe
In the past less.
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