If I could just get a glimpse to retain my self’s induced preservation; if only the brightness shone through, up and around my darkness, just to refresh in my conscience that hope shall be there; I’d rest helping, screaming.
I can’t open up wide enough to hopefully express how my inward feels.
It stopped being called lonely eons ago.
What truly helps I’m hoping is perseverance and patience and renowned faith.
I can’t I can’t I can no more.
Pain is reserved for the tough at heart.
Seeing that I died eons ago, this death on me has no fear.
Sadness dried and died before I knew what hit me.
Guide me back to living before this death is permanent.

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