Waited In Vain
My hope dries up like a sun baked stream, cut off from its source. To ever find the answers I have been looking for, to resolve these that I harbor in my soul.
Was it her? Or she that passed before? Or that woman from back then.
Never to be whole again, is that to be my lament? Yet I remain. Here. Hope against all hope. Maybe. There's always maybe.
Was it her? Or she that passed before? Or that woman from back then.
Never to be whole again, is that to be my lament? Yet I remain. Here. Hope against all hope. Maybe. There's always maybe.
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