I wait for the rain, let it wash away the pain. Created by my brain from outward Claims. And personal strain. And strife, so glad I quit using that Knife. And instead here I write. In hopes it will end the struggle inside. But this pen wont bleed me out to dry. Like the people in my life, that are only there to cheat and lie. Deceive and try to alter what I believe. Tell me my dreams are fantasy. And it’s time to wake up and see reality. For what it’s really meant to be. Pain and greif, “the struggle”, they scream. Why is it a struggle if happiness is all I seek. Why must happy moments be fleeting and bleak? I will not accept this negativity.

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