I have said time and again and yet I know not how it is received
if you can say the same of me that is
It is always well taken and openly and yet I worry
and wonder if it will be said unto me.
No dignity would I save if I had to prove it to be a true
My ego no more than a distant memory,
To hear those simply complex words,
that which I find most vile in the english tongue,
Would be more than dreams created can have ever been.
Though the distance be hard and long there is always a chance
It is upon this chance that I do pray.
I could nay never put to words this thing which I speak of
because to do so would insult Both you,
as you deserve so much more, than simple words and actions and me.
And the feeling itself has no words that could ever do justice
But yet here I am, exposed and weak, just take me as I am
or leave me if you must,
But remember this: never settle, never give up on dreams, and always above all find.
This one of heart is but the second of three, and third of untold amounts. One more of the three shall you receive.