one day wrongs will be made right, and all stories told with perfect truth, but for now the heartache is ours to bear, the tears ours to grieve. and how can you understand save you once held the same pain?
the story i know is but a microcosm in the great tapestry of sorrows, woven by countless all over, nameless since time anew. for how many stories are heard in this age, innit. yet we trust in the promise that each account has been recorded, and will one day be judged with perfect justice, mete with perfect love.
i should keep my mind on higher things.
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