The Thing With Daggers

What new bit of insanity is this? Surely, my heart is having a lark- a laugh- as most fools do. To be pulling and pushing my thoughts to the desire I had forsaken. Still forsake! Don’t I? Time also is a part of this trick, to make me forget, to weaken my defense. When did I lose sight of the fact that hope is not the thing with feathers? Hope, I know, I know, is the things with daggers.

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