When you wander, it's not necessarily because you're lost or because you're looking for something. Sometimes, it's like looking through an old photo album, wandering for the sake of discovering what has been there the whole time, like realizing you and your cousin wore the same yellow party dress, like searching the dusty corners of your being to find the place where your soul calls home.
If there were eyes Stuck in the skies That looked down in awe At everything they saw, Would they smile after all these years? Or would they cry such bloody tears?
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