Memories are too painful to recolect.
The present is to harsh to conceive.
The future is bleak to contemplate,
To think of my true fate.
When can I finally feel warm?
To have that fuzzy feeling.
The comfort evades me,
into darkness it sent me reeling.
I beg of you, console me.
Hold me tight,
and whisper in my ear,
"I am here for you."
~A poem by Bak Vinesse
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