I'm not a saint. I told you many times about it.
It's so hard to be the protagonist, yet I don't want to be the opposite one.
My tiny little faith is tempted. My flesh is weak.
I'm trapped, and I couldn't find the way out.
I was looking for your face to hand me a hand. But you were seen no where.
And here I'm now, stranded in a strange place with tears as my company.
My hair is disheveled and I need my comb back.
I call for you.
You.
-Little E-
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