Caught in between what I thought was right. I have invested so much of my time. The hesitation involved nothing more than a sense of where I need to draw the line. Well spent days away have only shown to face the lies devalued of truth. I've reached for solace all my life, and I can't face the truth without forcing myself to void misuse. For what intention? Protection. I must arm myself. With better days far away I must show my backbone. I never imagined this. Overwhelmed and lonesome. Deep inside I feel the emptiness share a bond with my lack of pursuit. As they dance together inside my forever, I now know the power of my root. Just because I'm told the days get better, doesn't mean it's soon enough. For I have felt this for what seems forever. I can't force myself to rebuild. With my will to decay, I hope these days come soon. Forlorn. I stretch my arms out wide. Only to find myself wrapped around my desire to always hide. I can't run away. I've never felt so alone. As these days will fade, how many times will this question be made? Will I ever see those days? Will I ever see those better days?
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