Lingering on some dark road, or bend,
While I wait, with uncertainty.
I know not where, or indeed when,
But I know my death, it beckons me.
On the sands, of this cold shore,
I am alone, nowhere to hide.
This journey, never taken before,
To end my life, a reluctant suicide
While I wait, with uncertainty.
I know not where, or indeed when,
But I know my death, it beckons me.
On the sands, of this cold shore,
I am alone, nowhere to hide.
This journey, never taken before,
To end my life, a reluctant suicide
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I struggle with the word perfect as it is far from it. But I have to tell myself that although I may not be 100% happy with it (I rarely am) he is happy with it and that is what matters.