D. (dalaruan) wrote,

Es ist das Herz ein trotzig und verzagt Ding; wer kann es ergründen?

The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?
Jeremiah 17,9

How many times will it recur? How many times will you go through this? To break out in tears in front of someone who will freeze, cold as flint. Someone who's unable to react, unable to calm you, maybe even leaving the room.

With everyone of them the ghost of your mother, a pale shadow, revives to refuse you again.
So your despair is crowned with a punch in the gut. Again and again.

roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud.
Tags: death, me, solitude

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