You try very hard to make up for something that was never your fault. What I mean is, it’s not like you asked for this. You didn’t choose this kind of life, and yet you have to work so hard to be good.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
good words forgotten; the bad, till eternity and beyond
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