Afterall

The promise of control.

It screams and sighs and starves me,

it makes me feel so empty.

But the hollowness,

the hopelessness,

the hunger,

it makes me feel so fucking fulfilled.

The promise of control.

The promise of hopeful tomorrows.

The promise of getting better…

But no.

Not when I’m sick.

Not when I lie to myself.

Not when I’m tired of having to give up all over again.

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