It
was what got her through,
Each
single day.
It
got her through the pain
That
was turning her heart into mushy liquid; necrotizing it
It
got her through nooses of self-satisfaction,
And
simultaneous thoughts of love and hate;
Castigation
and commendation-
Heaven;
and hell
Her
convictions shone
And
they, were brighter
Than
the light of even the brightest of neon-lanterns
As
the wicks burned, they fueled her
With
the desire to fail forward,
And
this;
Was
what birthed her perceived
‘Strong
convictions’
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