When I talk,

...which is always, you just take a breath to let it all in. Then why am I pulled back from playing your role?
Why have I never been the one to soothe and comfort, or to atleast shut up and listen? Why did the maker impair my touch of patience? Why can't I pull back my joys and rejoiced microseconds behind for the eternity of your longing?
Maybe because, you are a lot more than what I deserve to even worship. Because you have been blessed to be you, and I cursed to be me.