I know the dark.
I know sadness.
I know tears, pain, melancholy.
I know these things,
intimately,
like a lover whose
every contour I could
trace with my eyes closed.
I know these things intimately,
it's true, and I know
I am stronger.
Too strong, in fact, to
dwell in the darkened
recesses of that confused inferno.
Too strong to yield,
and let it consume me,
as I once did-
But no more.
I know the dark, sadness,
tears, pain, melancholy.
I know these things.
And they are not as strong
as me.
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