I wish I had my rose-coloured glasses,
so I could see the colours of your optimism.
You say we can be stronger than our painful wounds.
Maybe it’s true.
Maybe I could play the same role again too.
I could love and get myself hurt,
all over again,
and survive through each rejection,
getting by after mind games
from every conniving player,
standing tall after the most familiar…
…sense of abandonment.
Yes, I can.
In fact, I’ve done that often.
I have no doubts over my own perseverance.
Remember, I’ve been so good at being alone.
For too long,
I’ve stopped with all the expectations.
I’m a lone warrior.
I’ve treated my own wounds,
by making myself feel numb.
I know I’ve been strong enough,
but what if I’ve grown tired?
What if I’m fed up with playing the same damn role?