Choose love

My stories are written in lines of poetry, the roads I walk home are familiar with my tears. I tell the trees how they hurt me, I know they talk to no one but God.I cry by the riverside and throw a stone in to make ripples from my dribbles, then walk home knowing I’ll be back soon.

After all the tears, I still love them anyway, I can’t abandon my life and there must have been something worthwhile in the places I chose so I keep on

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