~1 دقیقه مطالعه • بروزرسانی ۶ خرداد ۱۴۰۴
I wished for life to forget, To lose track of tomorrow taking me along.
And so, forever, In the silence of this night, Seated upon a wooden chair, The scent of burning wood, The chorus of crickets—
With a hum of that song we once sang together, And a sigh-laden gaze upon memories, A handful of photographs.
Life forgot, And I remained in yesterday.
Yet it never understood That the wish of that night Was only a jest.
And so, forever, In the silence of this night, Seated upon a wooden chair, The scent of burning wood, The chorus of crickets—
With a hum of that song we once sang together, And a sigh-laden gaze upon memories, A handful of photographs.
Life forgot, And I remained in yesterday.
Yet it never understood That the wish of that night Was only a jest.
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