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Release from the Soul
Yet, if a meaningless life
is all I am destined to live.
Why do I go on hoping
there is something and somewhere for a tragedy like me?
Why is it that there is
always a longing for longing when I already know it is unquestionably
unobtainable?
Leaves fall off the
branch, and photographs collect dust but I still remain the same.
I still blame myself for
all the things that could have been done and said - to people that
have come and gone.
Still regretting over the
same problems, still missing the same people and still missing the
same timeless days.
I want to clench fists,
grit teeth and muster the courage to say goodbye.
I want to tell myself that
it is okay to regret, and to shed tears -
To say it is okay to be a
flaw because imperfections carve a person.
But how does a person
continue to move onwards while storing what was once real and
discarding what has once happened?
If salvation from this
misery means to neglect the moments once occured in time -
Then I'd rather live
regretting the past and suffer this human contradiction called life.