sometimes I wonder

if surviving makes a type

where all the trials and mishaps that come with

being battle worn and damaged

come with other traits as well

the strength to persevere and

a sense of innocence and vitality that others

no matter how they’ve lived can match

I see myself in them

these lost souls in a sea of brooding

and same-sung faces

I find myself drawn to them again

and again knowing that there

will be hard times and good times

that sometimes the best of people

are those that others chose

to destroy



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