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I lost count of how many times I've had people slip out of my grasp—be it because of me or a mistake that tore us apart— it's bound to happen eventually and like I realized it— it doesn't get any easier —you just get used to it
I lost count of how many lives I wished I had and how many pains I longed to remove from my system —be it because of me being trapped in a hole I dug myself or because of a shortcut I took thinking it would get me to the better things— it doesn't get any easier —you just get used to it
I lost count of how many pieces of me I lost with every grief I've yet to face—be it from a time missed and gone or from a promise uttered yet broken—it's bound to happen because it's the truth of life we don't yet know— it doesn't get any easier —you just get used to it
I lost count of how many deaths I lived through with time leeching off my youth and my will to keep going —be it because of the race I keep running only to fail or the plain anxiety of having to suffer day by day— it doesn't get any easier —I just got used to it
