The best i can do is push my words to be kind, force myself from the lies; despite the futility, try.
I kicked away my own crutch to prove that i could stand, and I never learned so fast as I did when I lost that hand.
Having leaned upon this vice for far too long, how many times will I fail; how long must this go on?
Taking refuge and seeking comfort, with so much left unsaid.
Hiding in hubris, always defiant, a flood of pain left in my wake.
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