There is no other mystery, than the mystery of oneself, relinquishing all hope to that of guilt.
I will forever not know what he meant
words uttered under breath made no sense
harsh, as I believe they were,
never penetrated as he intended to hurt.
Best not to let those words penetrate at any time. And we do have the choice, I’ve learned.
Short and awesome poem here.
Indeed we have a choice, but some of us don’t have a choice, and allow them to penetrate; the end has come, though not beautifully. Thank you, Jannie.
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