i tend to follow paths laid out by wishful thinking —knowingly, yet is there no intention.
and is it tough, i like to wander just as slow into the lostness.
if i was you, i‘d see the hope, that life, or god, the universe… whatever i might call it, has forced this life upon me while whispering to me, that just through pain, it will be honest,
and that i (specifically)— would not have grasped, in time, the misery, of what it— takes, not what i‘ve lost— for, and not from, me, to be the loving, present parent for my daughter, that i will— now for certain— be.
through the darkness, every cry through every scream,
for all the pain you‘ve taken— and not given me.
through the darkness, every cry through every scream, for all the pain you‘ve taken— and not given me.