The Deep End
Sort of like a boomerang. The past constantly coming back no matter how hard I throw it. Or push it away. The calm abyss of failing to feel loved for very long. Ascending, descending, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a way to organize pointless data. Deals with my heart I made long ago.
I'm too aware of everything and nothing. The source of my emotions floating in the deep end of my pain. A candle in the wind questioning the darkness. Too often it feels like the end. The beginning going over the falls in wooden barrels, never to be seen again.
I'm too aware of everything and nothing. The source of my emotions floating in the deep end of my pain. A candle in the wind questioning the darkness. Too often it feels like the end. The beginning going over the falls in wooden barrels, never to be seen again.
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