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I feel sorry for you,
I sympathize,
not because you deserve it,
not because you’re petty,
but because I feel even sorrier for myself.
For watching you stand there,
with faith that I might change my mind,
that I might change my heart.
And watching you,
leaves me in so much awe.
I see myself in how you stand–
how I used to have that much strength as you,
and how painful it was to lose.
I don’t want you to lose,
don’t want to see you in your knees,
picking up the pieces.
But I don’t want to get myself into
another swirl of lies and false hope.
This is a dilemma, my dilemma,
should I take that chance,
of feeling something good again,
other than the pleasure of melancholy,
or should I leave it tragic,
snatch that faith from you,
and offer you chaos?

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