I had a vision where my plight was sat on a table full of dispair. These words I wear on my sleeve like a tattoo. Why does this have to be about me. Can you truly see that my heart is filled with stories of love. A poetic justice I must create, for the world to pick apart and recreate. Attach themselves to the emotions I’ve served swiftly like an ace. Pick the pieces they love and reconnect, with a moment that they feel they can live. Every word isn’t about me, but an entity something similar to cupid. I can hear the world talk and I want to be their therapy. Rest assured not everything can truly be about me. This is a toast to all the memories, feelings, dreams, complications that have created these imitations. There’s limitations that one can only have. Put one and two together, let’s do the math. I’m the professor and this is my class, all of my students need a lesson of compassion. There’s no comparison to the world I live. Where some days it’s smoothe like a sweet summer day, then others are chaotic like a ramped tidal wave. I can’t blame you for having these ludacrious emotions, open your eyes and see what truly is in front of your feet. A token of my gratitude in the form of a ring. An everlasting circle where it’s just you and me. Tell me can that be broken? I doubt the answer will be up to me. I’ve given my all and will continue to try and be me.

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