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Past

Staring through the glass of time, hands against the panes,
Watching as it drifts on by, again and again.
Wailing at those wasted years, now it's all regret.
Now I'm like a wilted rose, waiting for sunset.
Yearning for a second chance, one that'll never be,
Wondering how I ever lost those opportunities.
This luxury is something once I squandered away,
And now is something I can't afford in my remaining days.