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the muck. Alone, of course, suspended in my woe. A foe is woe that I know... so. I wonder why I can never seem to be happy. Why I never let myself be happy. To have so much, yet to be grateful for so little. Yet to be grateful for everything. To be grateful for nothing. I know that if I work for something I can attain it. Anyone can, in truth. If you truly seek something, you can have it, the only thing stopping you... is you. Why do I stop myself? Do I enjoy the pain? Or is it not pain? Things have been worse, much, much worse. Yet can they ever get better? I mire by, day after day, as those that I love grow older. As I grow older. My darkness soon to wake, yet I take no action. I allow myself to break. Or do I simply break, from no action I take? Weak, so to speak. Is it weakness? Or is it just my humanity that I'm ashamed of? Ashamed to be what I am. To be what I am. I should feel no shame for loving how I love, yet I do. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I feel fear to speak the truth of self, of my self. Yet I feel proud at the identical time. Proud to be different. Proud to be Gay. Proud to be.. me. Yet ashamed. Why? I know why. I want someone's touch, I want someone to want to touch me. To want to be near me, always. Perhaps not always, but at least often. No. Always. To have them near, even when I'm far. I feel lust, which shames me, though I doubt my shame more and more. I have urges, I have. desire. I want. Yet.. I don't. Always of two minds, two minds of all. Musing, lol. Seeing, where my mind takes me. Post a comment in response: |
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