I stopped. (By: Chris Hathaway)

Broken picture frames free memories of seasons spent.
I stopped to smell the roses and wondered where the scent went.
You can’t repair what doesn’t want to be and we’ve reached the point of no return.
Broken hearts free us from the pain of love that still burns.
I stopped to hear the sound of chirping birds taking turns.
You can’t repair what doesn’t want to be, when will you and I ever learn?

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