As I walk this line that we’ve drawn, I ponder the possibilities of what could of been. The year of endless fighting. All the talks that never made a difference. The possibility of what is, what was, and what I truly believe should’ve been. Trying only goes so far, in the end it’s the doing that proves the point. I tried so hard for this, I bent till I broke in pieces. While you stood tall, whole, in one singular piece. That’s when I knew the end was near. Support you never gave, you merely kicked the dust in my face while I was down. That’s it, dirty me up, so you come out the winner. Sorry to be the one to inform your bitter heart, no matter how far down in the dirt and gravel you put me, I will rise up, and my hands will still be clean. But will yours? I doubt it my friend, I doubt it.