In my head:
Thoughts of what could have been run wild and loose, and I wonder: What could have been?
A life untouched by faces, untainted by more thoughts of what could have been?
A family protected by love, guided by words of assurance and smiles for a better day?
True friendships that last longer than a lifetime, unaffected by anger, loss and despair?
A love which withstands the bumps of time and the little plots of the ignorant minds?
A place to call home, a place to which I run to after a long day's mishaps and hardships?
Thoughts of what could have been run wild and loose, and I wonder: What could have been?
A life untouched by faces, untainted by more thoughts of what could have been?
A family protected by love, guided by words of assurance and smiles for a better day?
True friendships that last longer than a lifetime, unaffected by anger, loss and despair?
A love which withstands the bumps of time and the little plots of the ignorant minds?
A place to call home, a place to which I run to after a long day's mishaps and hardships?
And then you read the following quote:
The unwillingness to forgive stems from wanting the past to be different from what it was.
... and you think: Why? Why wasn't the past different when it should have been? And how? How can we forgive when all we needed for a happy ending was to try, a bit harder, firmer and more willingly?!
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