Recurring
Don't know what happiness is.
Only what I should think it
should be, running away
to prove a point.
Just don't know what it is
and I'm repeatedly running
into a wall.
Breaking everything
that isn't my soul, yet.
Pacing myself,
knowing that this is it.
The truth is ugly
and I'm done here;
but can't leave just yet.
Copyright © Linda Snipes | Year Posted 2017
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