Do You Have The Will To Be More Than Full?

47, 48, 49, 50.
You can’t sleep, can’t you?
Tossing and turning in you bed,
You think about those times,
the one that went wrong,
where you shouldn’t have said what you said,
or you shouldn’t have done what you did.
You recall all the faces,
the one that looked you with scorn;
the one with the pity in their eyes;
and the one who think you are shy.
You think about that girl with soft hands, reaching for your shoulder,
the one with sweet voice who innocently asked you if you okay,
when she saw you sitting in a crowd crying.
You repent not looking at her innocent face, as you turned away.
You still have the guilt of the escape,
when you wiped your cheeks, stood up and left that space.

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