Though that is still enough,
To fill the pit inside so much so,
You threaten the love,
For the capacity that makes your holes,
Something to put up with.
But now that other things may get involved,
You wonder how full the cup is,
And pretend that nothing is due to you,
Though the coldness from your soul infects,
Every nook that anyone can feel,
Or rather, what anyone lets.
And it will be alright,
If it all gets fixed in the end,
Because it's obvious who's in the wrong,
And who really needs the mend.
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