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The storm is temporary
Pain is something
I don’t plan to make hereditary
I will be a legend
the day people visit my cemetery
I’m weak now
but the load is something
I force myself to carry
Was once freezing and pouring
Now it is just chilly and drizzling
One day it will be sunny
and God’s light will shine
on me but for now
I have to concentrate on the demon
inside me
Listening to my life story
is a sad story
It’s like expressing your heartbreak story
but yet trying to remain strong
and pretending your mood is ordinary
but deep down
you are hoping your past love
call you and tell you that they still care.
The words we are hoping to hear
lead to disappointments
when the truth is what we see
and the truth is rarely what we hear
Accepting criticism is not easy to bare that’s why our
private life is something
we don’t like to share
Judgmental is what makes us scared
like Chuckie
when he sees the guy on the oatmeal box
The heart is a door
we might just for once leave unlock
for a robber to steal everything
we got
We learn the hard way, the heart hardens
Our personality received the life sentence
and the key is thrown away
The heart is forever locked
for us being afraid of opening up again
Being afraid is
wishing you can start over again
but refuse to
Regret being miserable and hating yourself because starting over
is what you refuse to do.
So when you die and loved ones
visit your cemetery
they will always remember that you could not handle the truth