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And after all the suffering
The long nights reliving
Moments of combat
Interspersed with longing
Of the what-it-could-have-been
When you're done with the fake smiles, the crying
comes this thing
To destroy the pretense and aching
Not thru the front door smiling
You have to chase it
To hunt it down
You have to beg for it
To come around
Maybe you need to grab it's throat
Or punch it in the nose
And drag it home
It's so slippery, so elusive
They call it healing