To suffer the pain of the goners
While losing their beloved patience:
I cannot shake the feeling
That everyone else's loss is just as much my fault.
When they say that there is nothing here to live for
I cannot find a response.
Do I believe in something better?
I cannot kill the answer.
Suddenly, Two hands cover my eyes.
Who can it be?
To my surprise: A friend from way back home.
"What a small and lovely city!
I just wanted you to know:
I'll be in town for the weekend.
Will I see you at the show?"
Every now-and-then, something beautiful happens
That none of us could have ever planned, but...
Always, until then-
I cannot help it. I'm a skeptic.
I am a nonbeliever.
For this moment
I was not chosen.
I'm not convinced of the lie.
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