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The plans I’m making are not the ones I wanted or expected to make
But the execution will come sooner than the 7 or whatever years promised
The purple blooms, by my hand, should have died long ago
But they thrive despite the circumstances
And it’s incredibly unfair that they are successful
And I was not
I want to just throw them in the garbage, or stomp them into the ground
I don’t want to see their beauty- it’s a sham.
I will not be diminished. I hope I learn my worth.
I tried and tried and tried.
And that’s what everybody always says- do your best, if you try hard enough you can do anything.
Well… they lied.
I am only loved by the tragic, making me tragic too.
And I know… that in a couple of years,
I’ll be back. Same basic situation… Writing the same sentiment with slightly different words, with a tragedy that is different yet the same.
I am unchanged, a creature of habit.
And so, diminished… I guess I am.
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