luno sur mia ŝultro, parto tri

I love words
sometimes more than I love myself
but regardless of what old stained pages would have be believe
I cannot sustain a human body with ancient throbbings of self-righteous throats

it must be hard to lose someone or something
that you love so much
but you know, when you completely devote your life
to something outside of yourself
you place your heart in a precarious position

always missing people
that you shouldn’t be missing
always craving places
that will eventually kill you

even if I wrote a letter to my former self
it wouldn’t do me any good
and if I had not suffered through the trials and tribulations that I have
then it would not be me standing here today


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