It’s complicated…

 

He is my solace,

But he fills me not;

Like a sanctuary, roofless, amidst a storm…

 

He is my obsession,

Though, mine, he is not;

Like an addiction that you manipulate into a norm…

 

In his realms, I wander,

Eager to quench this thirst I feel,

But, with each endeavor, I am left deformed…

 

To free myself is easy

When voiced but not in doing

For his rare existence in my cold life leaves me fleetingly warm…

 

He is my paradox;

The epiphany of all my contradictions.

With him, or without him, my life and my sanity are outstormed…

 

 

 

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