To be more than me.
A fool, I feel, despondent, echoing words. Relentless, for what? To feel comfort in one matter of dependence. To state love on the basis of my own commitment. Yet failing to recognize one’s place in existence.
Persistence for a moment, that once, where you may have felt as being oh so different. What separates anyone from these fleeting moments? To feel hopeless in the face of your fears, yet hopeful because you believe your thoughts to be real.
How is one meant to requite these words? How am I meant to be forgiven by the one which I hurt?
Simply because I was relentless in silence, dependent for commitment, and persistent to be in your existence. No. All due to my thoughts being different, and my expectations inconsistent.