Reach out in hopes that the first cell had successfully divided. Reach out and hope I make an image in the opaque of your mind.
Reach out and hope that you might swallow the poison of pride, like I do each and every time—I take each bitter pill in stride. I pored through old letters to restore the fading ink of my mind. I swallowed the poison of pride, 'cause even if I'm dying, I know that at least I tried.
Foot in front of the other, you took hold of the door knob, twisted, looked outside, and felt breeze on your skin. I asked if you were gonna miss winter in the heartland of Chicago.
It died. No goodbye.
And now, looking back on abandoned history, I can see foolishness I'd never admit. I know the dark is coming for me. But I know that dawn will come after, and the sunlight will shatter sullen shadows and destroy my delirium so I can't drown in my sorries.
I've seen the dark. I've felt its cold grip, but I'm not scared because I know the sun will rise in just hours.
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