whenever I thought a had plenty, I had none.
whenever I had one,it wasn't enough.
the harder I looked the more I got lost
but the more I accepted the one I had, the more my heart rejected it. Until I started to hurt because the more I searched for better, the more I lost my grip on the one.
now I wonder, am I ever truly satisfied?
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The Voice of My Silence
PoetryThe words that he spat germinated and grew into the tree that overshadowed him What goes around.. From the author: vote and comment if you like what you see
