Words spill out secrets
And the more I speak, the more I regret
Yet, my lips remain parted until I utter a new word
And so it goes on, this story of telling tales!❣
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O the winter night long, Listen to the heart's song, "The sleepless eyes dreaming, Past hopes screaming, Calling for the days gone."
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But does hanging on to the past really help? How much, to what extent should we worship the past, remember it, celebrate it? And how much should we leave behind, forever?
