To go back

To see you again, to hold your hand

To walk with you through the corridors of time

To soothe your fear, to hear you speak

I long for it

 

But what a cruel pleasure it would be

to see you suffer, the remnants of you

left hanging – your illness taunting you

Dipping in and out of sanity

 

But to see you – even just so

And the chance to hold you, to say goodbye

Is one right we have been denied

There’s no pleasure in neglect

There’s no pleasure in their failure of care

Just enduring pain at how you were treated so

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