Something about t_ _ _ _. (Advent, Two)
without love, it hurts.
it lives in the daylight.
keep telling it and you’ll never need change your story.
brutally applied, it stings and wounds.
ill-defined, it’s a movable famine, starving the soul.
without it, you’re consumed from the inside out.
people will live a lifetime resisting its freedom.
at it’s best it needs no reframing.
at it’s worst, it’s hidden to your detriment.
you can shut it out, but you can’t make it go away.
you can bury it, but it keeps bearing bad fruit.
time reveals it – a dim mirror drawing focus.
it’s a person.
it can be absolute.
it’s a better word.
knowing it will set you free.
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