It's probably next to impossible to put up with me and all my messed up things; My unresolved anger at almost anything, the moods that swing beneath the masking of the shell I've built around myself in an attempt to convince the world I'm stable.
And then a single thought of you and its gone: the gentle persona I long to have takes over me and my anger disappears, replaced with the thought of hope.
I hope that you are happy, I hope that you are in a better place, I hope with every ounce of my being that your spirit is free and guiding mine home to the path from which I've strayed
But in the hope lies the underlying, acknowledging truth that I miss you more and more each day
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