note to past self

You were so young, even still at heart, but that was shot to hell when you lived for the last moments and not the tense pressured                                                                                             senses, saught out to destroy

Something, some part you couldn’t put a finger on                                                                               labels were something you discovered, but                                                                                   couldn’t find one worth salvaging

Like a treasure hunt, my heart was all over the map with my head on it’s own tracks

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