There is a sadness within me.

I carry a heaviness that on good days I barely notice.

But on the bad days– oh, how it pulls me down.

There is a melancholy I hold.

Sometimes I’m not even quite sure why

I don’t just let it go.

But other days I know

I would be someone completely different

If my hands weren’t dirty, cut, and bruised

From holding onto the memory of you.

There is a sadness that clings to me

And wraps me up in a familiar dampness

That sometimes chills my bones and gives me the flu.

And while so many will never know,

Always those moments pass

And I once again find a warm glow.

—Written by Sandy heights

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