Where is the relief
That was supposed to come
I have spent days and days
In the wake of your destruction
You ripped through my life
Like a silent ship wreck in the dark of night
Remnants of who I use to be
Float aimlessly in the dark cold waters of this nightmare
Searching for light
The shore
Or any half stable object to cast myself upon
Slowly I drift ashore
On a cold December morn
Tired and as weak as the water that bashes itself relentlessly against the rocky shore
I look up and realize
Even after all of this
You are still my lighthouse on the hill
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