I lost my happiness
Lost my peace of mind
My appetite, my self-control
All was left behind
…
My self-respect was shattered
My ego was badly bruised
Innocence had gone missing
I was alone and confused
…
Darkness surrounded me except
For a little light from above
When I went diving, falling
Into the abyss called love
…
That light was all I needed
To help me dig a bit further
There I found a treasure chest
Belonging to no other
…
I opened the dusty treasure chest
And I was glad to find
My missing piece of happiness
My missing peace of mind
…
I also repaired my self-respect
My ego was at its best
Innocence was also retrieved
With the gems from the chest
…
Then I came to realise
That this bottomless pit
Is not as bad as it seems
If you do not quit
Digging deep and rising above, sounds “Spring” enough to me. Anony Mole is being a buzzkill. LOL
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Love rescues you of everything 👌👌👌
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This is a great account of where one could find themselves. You really give us lots to think about.
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That last line Frank is the rapier.
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So powerful
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The ego is a killer, brother.
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That’s Amazing
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Thank you.
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Truth and hope appear in dark places with just a little light … thank you for this!
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Aw, it’s beautiful and painful at the same time . . . with a blast of hope at the end. I enjoyed!
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How beautiful ❤️
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Thank you, Anupriya.
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True. Whatever may be the scenario. Do no Quit. This too shall pass 🙂 🙂
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nice
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Thank you.
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Beautiful
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Thank you.
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My pleasure
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I enjoyed this Frank! ❤️
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Thanks, Loretta.
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I really like this a lot Frank.
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Thanks, Tara.
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❤️ this
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So inspiring and uplifting!
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Thanks, Tanya.
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Pleasure!
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Frank, dude, it’s springtime. Time to write about something besides love or love’s loss. Robert Frost and roses, trees, the path lest trod. Lots of physical and philosophical subjects out there to ponder. Stretch your legs a bit. What of grass? Smoked or laid upon during an afternoon nap under the sun — maybe both. What of a melt-water swollen stream? Insects and their awakening? The crocus pushing up through warming soil?
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It may be spring outside but it is all winter within.
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You’re killin’ me, guy. I’m dying here. Sprinkle in some sunshine, or pound some vitamin D…
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Wait till April for a dose of horror. That might brighten your spirits.
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April showers of blood bring May flowers of gore.
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Reblogged this on anita dawes and jaye marie.
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Meaningful, yet quitting is not a choice that we get to decide… It’s more of like an auto eject seater …
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