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When I broke I shattered.
Not a minor fracture, not a small tear
no, I collapsed into a darkness
that of late is still hard to shake.
And shake I did, I am shaking
I shudder at the very thought.
For my weakness, my great flaw, is that I feel and that I still draw breath.
And I let the sentence trail off.
Yes, yes I let the sentence... fade
In the hope that the message wasn't heard,
for the moment it left my mouth
I became so very afraid of what it might entail.
and I might have a way with words
but that doesn't make my heart feel any more secure.
Perhaps I'd make a better fighter than a lover,
and there's still beauty in that cliche.
But all the while I'm learning that truly, without a shred of doubt
beyond the possibility of revision I have nothing in my head when I ask myself:
What is my purpose in life?
What is my purpose, my calling in life X2
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2. |
A Song For A Dying Hope
02:03
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I find it hard to accept, my darling. See there? I said it, referencing common musical tastes in a pitiful, albeit heartfelt attempt to make you see my value again.
But see, I ramble. Just as the beating of my heart did flutter to a meandering yet beautiful rhythm, the rhythm of a common bond.
A bond furtively constructed by me over long weeks of secretive anguish and jealousy.
No, that first time I did not complain. I sat pondering my choices, as a spider watches its web. My nebulous gaze fixed upon the singular point of your peculiar attraction.
No. I set out with nefarious intentions my dear, for at first, I was under no illusions as to my place and thus hoped simply to undermine, your ties, to him.
Oh yes, the thought of him with you brings a color to my face.
Red with anger,
Green with jealousy,
Blue with the chill in my bones.
Blue with the chill in my bones, that I felt every single time, I saw any mention of him.
It burns.
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