Better This Way Comments

I don't want to confess the unwarranted jealousy inside.
It makes no sense after the storm and rage and fire. After the calm, the stage of peace and revival.
There is no sense in the heaviness of my heart with one minute on the clock, and the lightness of a feather with the next ticking mark.
I'm much too exhausted to concern my deepest subconscious with old endless games. He was my illusìon of happiness, even love for a time. My illusion of the light, the moon.
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