a familiar air

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There's a record in my mind that keeps spinning around

That keeps my feet walking in reminiscent grounds

How I wish I could say its familiarity keeps me safe and sound.



But that record comes with hinges and bunches of scratch

The guitar strings are coming for the attack

And I beg to it, "play something, anything but that".



Airy waves pass my eardrums as crescendo

Turning the sweet tunes into my greatest foes

Strolling down memory lane shaking and alone.



The song was playing right at the crime scene

I was at the center all battered and bloodied

A salt to the wound until now, not a remedy.



As a familiar air whisks, I press it to stop

Nostalgia reels in, aching to be dropped

At unfavorable moments, its reminiscent grounds burn up.



Oh, it's all coming back now.

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