Existenesial Musings



7. A Mistake

That's what it will become.

The fog clears,

I'm no longer needed,

As something to grab onto in the storm.

When it was all falling apart.

When it was that or be alone.

When it was that or stay.

But you have a lighthouse now,

Someone who can light your way.

So you see I was just a branch that a bird could rest on.


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