#Chapter217
Dear Ronan,
I know you've already suffered enough,
And it is not my intent for you to suffer further,
But hear me out.
You're over the worst,
But you're not over it all.
The band-aid has been tore, and the wound aired out,
But such wounds don't come without scars,
And all scars are stories in the end.
Dear Ronan,
I know you've already suffered enough,
And it is not my intent for you to suffer further,
But hear me out.
You're over the worst,
But you're not over it all.
You'll be fine some days,
A burning star that expropriates the souls of the lost,
And kisses purpose into them once more.
You'll be fine some days,
But despair is a Venus fly trap,
And we stumble into it blindly upon the small hours when sleep acts as a cruel mistress.
Dear Ronan,
I know you've already suffered enough,
