A boy sits, foresaken at the fire. Crackling pops tell you need not bother. Warmth of the glow and juxtaposition of the tears falling from the cracks in young hearts. Youth wears away as time grows still. Ticking clocks smash to pieces in battered memories. And winter winds wash away the ancient pains, leaving only scars of what once. Alone now lost he carries on, and sands shift softly through the hourglass.
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