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Here I am back in my old swamp
Trying to swallow reality
I will never understand why
But I know that this will come to pass

All the tears and sweat will be worth it soon
Letting all the exhaustion dawn on me
Darkness is always near
Please let me out from this misery

Hoping for answers to come
I won't let myself rule -
Let Your will *be done
Tired of the happenings around me. I need a break....
The art of being loved
is a curious thing.
Something starts,
So full of fear and doubt,
trepidation.
Knowing looks and unknown thoughts.
Flickers and smiles.
Moments.
Where we are just wild,
close, closed;
off to the world.
'Till we need no others.
Feed on passion,
crave control.
It is a curious thing
where living without is
living in sin.
Yin
I'll be the *****; it's expected.
No shocks or surprises.
She'll see it coming.
You can fade to nothing when harsh words cross paths.
I'm riled.
She knows it.
It's a little bit of all life new and past, but she'll get it.
It's not her fault but we'll say she had it coming.
Justify actions otherwise inexplicable.
Premeditated.
Premeditation.
Now anticipation.
Then justification.
Later.
Later nothing.
She had it coming.
She only had herself to blame.
She sees it coming.
If she doesn't, she should.
Now to wait.
Axes to tip.
Always in my favour.
I'm the *****.
To the *****.
I'll come out better.
Now delusional.
Not right, justified.
Not shocking.
Nothing.
It's nothing.
Delusions.
Pills.
Premeditation.
Silence.

I saw it coming.

— The End —