Months have passed
And it is expected to have forgotten or put to rest at least
The hurt
I can't seem to let go
And the pain is eating at me slowly
My life is at a standstil
I function, I work, I crawl into my role
The hurt
It is always there; it has come and found a home
Deep in my being
What is it that will take my sorrow?
Is it a word, a look, a leaving?
The hurt
When will it pack up and let me forget?
My only companion
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