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I chase after the memories of your face
like chasing after a fading dream, writing it into the pages like I'll never let it go.
But now, your smiling face has grown a little hazy in my mind...
Shakily opening the album in my hands, I paint on a smile and say "Sorry."
"I still live with you. The clock's hands have stopped."
As my tears begin to fall, I hear your voice say...
"Why are you crying? Where is this pain coming from? If I pat your head, will you smile?"
With a gentle, non-condemning voice, you said "I'm always right here with you."
My crying is so sorrowful, so stubbornly selfish, you say, (For being born, thank you.)
"Don't cry", and with a sorrowful voice, you rubbed my cheek, a dream. (For being born, thank you.)
"It's useless to cry," I hear you say through my tears
It's useless to cry, and yet you were crying too.
I have to protect you, so I shakily rose to my feet
and said "It's okay."
"Why are you crying? Where is this pain coming from? If I pat your head, will you smile?" (For being born, thank you.)
With a gentle, non-condemning voice, I said "I'm always right here with you." (For being born, thank you.)
Your heart, as if it had never been hurt, said "Hey, I'm okay," with a smile (For being born, thank you.)
as if you, too, wanted to say in that smile, (For being born, thank you.)
"Thank you for letting me be born."