Tomorrow spells light in your eyes...
a hint of something to come,
something that was,
something that could be again?
I will accept the unbinding feel
of a touch, of a whisper, of a linger.
You shower me in undeserving praise,
and you almost have me convinced:
that maybe I am okay, likable...
maybe there isn't something wrong with me?
Lift me into the arms of acceptance
and I will try to find the will to believe.
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