Poetry of the mind

Start

A fall, a thought; further memories forgot. They come, and leave; however they may be.
It's hard, it's dark; but it's best to be,
Alone, afraid with stains on my cheek.

No matter how far, the length of progress or amount of trust you've built, you'll end up at the start. Progress dimming and success is leaving, taunting and bleeding your motivation.

I was once here before, I moved from schools. I started a fresh, but I don't think I can start again after wasting 5 years.

Broken nostalgia and a pigment of friendships a shard. A painting once seen, but now it's all been. All good things can never stay too long, but once you're gone. I must go on, round another circuit of hope.

A circuit only death can break.