As one tells everyone how it is,
the head begins to swell
Because of
all the pride
That has
sunk into the skin.
The hopes of
separating
What is true
from
What is
Accurate
Will be an
advantage until
it
cannot continue.
Questions are empty jars
Filled with
the realities of
Frequent
loneliness and
Yearning for
the touch of another.
At some
point,
The
realization becomes too real
And when challenged by reality,
When one stands and stares
Into the
eyes of the secrets
that
are buried beneath the soil
Death
awaits,
And it is
very, very
Painful.
There is no
easy way out.
I suppose.
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