I would go that extra mile, just to see you smile. Where the roads are warped and haunted, and the path is laid in jagged stones, I will not dither. It is just an extra mile, and I am walking it for you. So what does it matter if I am a little unsteady on my feet; stumbling and clutching, falling and tripping? So what does it matter if my feet is soaked in blood and my soul is weary? For in the end, I will gently wash my hurt and put on my silken dress and my fancy boots to greet you in the foyer. And watch your smile twinkle in your eyes like a million fairy lights; like the fireworks in July.
But sometimes, just sometimes I wish you’d see the bruises my fancy boots hide or the weariness in my eyes. I wish you’d kiss my hurt and say, "Next time I will walk the mile with you".