But It’s Not

One day we’ll see, one day we’ll be. It will be to late, way after the date. As we figure out, what it was all about. How we fight, missing the real plight, that others see, but not me. Missing the details, with pain in our entrails. As the days go on, and we lovingly fawn. At something we cannot free, trying to be someone we cannot be. In our own way, we decide to stay and try to play, and move deeper in the fray. Of our lives to be the way we want it to be.


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