The truth is what we hide While we talk about anything but While secretly hoping someone will read our minds And equally praying they do not We know just what we want But worse than wanting is the getting And then the disappointment And lastly the regretting The lie is what we tell ourselves So we won't stop believing A hope that we sell ourselves To distract us from our grieving But worse than all hope lost Is any hope fulfilled Because it is the hoping Not the getting That strengthens our will
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