Status Report to an Old Friend

At least I’m making interesting mistakes,
At least I don’t want to die anymore,
At least the sun is rising a little faster, now,
At least the werewolves don’t come off the moor.

I’m not quite ready to tell the full truth yet,
But half-truths almost taste the same,
A little bitter, a hint of alcohol,
A nameless flavor, tasted,  almost named.

I know you’ve been really worried,
I know I’ve put you through a lot.
I know you’re glad I’m feeling better, now;
I know I’m not.

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