His fury is my prison, his guilt my shackles. The days are empty of light, and I wither here among the worms and the browning leaves.
But maybe my bitterness has some effect too. Can I place all the blame on his shoulders, when in truth I walked into this with my eyes open? I saw the signs, I voiced the concerns, and still I came.
Freedom comes at a price. I will pay, do not fear, and do not doubt.
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