Not another sad sorry story.
Not another backboneless attempt,
to reckon and redeem myself, my humanity, a memory -
worse in person than in print.
How many times can you quit something and still be allowed to call it that?
What good is it to point out what's bad if you always keep on going back?
Who am I to suffer when I bring joy to no one else?
Why not try a new reality, not one I see, when either's truth lies in the believing?
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