March Thirteenth

If home is where the heart is, where does an empty soul live?
A heartless romantic who is merely hopeless yet a love fanatic
I always find myself dwelling in sadness for it is home

I welcome people in for them to come and go 
While taking me with them in spirit to only come back and ask for forgiveness
Forgiveness to assure they can do it again and a part of me feels honored to let them

Every time I look in the mirror I just don’t get it
I like what I see while not understanding what I’m feeling
I put in hard work and dedication towards my ability to heal
To only feel okay long enough to revert to my old habits which are hard to kill

To wonder am I worthy of what I want as people keep treating me a particular way
Why do the people I’d love to love solely dedicate themselves to only experiencing me?
Self love; I trust in me, may I be the sincerity I need to set me free

I am analytical of myself to assure I stay sane
As I take the blame for every distasteful game played on me
I’m tired of being a lesson disguised as an neglected blessing repeatedly

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