one hundred twenty

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Watching you grow is something I will always have engraved at the back of my mind.

A child hiding under his bed. A boy trapped on his wooden seat, nothing but love for his father. A betrayed friend that lost everything he had. A person, still growing, chained to the bottom of the abyss, screams muffled.

Watching the scars fade, the walls chip, your eyes dull, the sun set—it's all just one big cycle. The rage sets in, regret the next, tears flow, veins throb, bruises bloom, hearts break, arms circle, skin on skin.

Laughter, hurting, apologies, forgiveness, what's next?

I'm living. That's enough for me.

You're living. I hope that's enough for you too.

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