There exists a certain, peculiar, undeniable, unpreparable type of love.
That I'm sitting here, dreaming of.
When will it run through the rivers, over the mountains, under the trees to come way.
Perching here, I waitfor my day.
I've seen it at work, rising them up, oblivious of Heaven, Hell, or earth's power.
The aroma of it will be my life's flower.
Time goes by, and I know it will eventually be here.
Ever closer, near, near.
This is my time, this one's for me, this one will be my savior.
Oh wait. It just hit her. That isn't in my favor.
Dang it. Hit and miss.
What a diss?
Ugh. Not again. Lost.
There I was, with truth I was flossed.
A love can't save me.
I just have to be.
Alone isn't awful.
It can be life=full.
Let's do this.
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