"Why can't I be enough", you tuck the golden strands of hair behind your ear as you ask. I notice that you are giving me one last chance. I glance, not knowing if it will be my last. I try to explain that one person could never save a life that was not meant to be saved. In a cycle of pain, you try and remind me of the gain. I pray that you get it, I love you all the same.
"The good is not worth the insane feeling I have on a day to day basis." You cry because you are in this stasis of not knowing what to say that could potentially, one day, cause my grasp to hold on to your hand, to life. I tell you that "if I was the happiest person alive I would still want to die."
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