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| It is almost time... Will I say "I told you so?"I am think I may be done trying. Why should I wait? Why should I bother? What is love, but a second hand emotion?
It is three o'clock in the goddamn morning, I have to go to work tomorrow. But yet, I still think about him. When will this all end?
I am tired of this.
Loving someone who does not love you back is total shit. I would never wish this feeling upon anyone.
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| Sleep.... at least I'd get some sleep. Sleep.I guess this is the part where I say, "Here we go again." I cannot keep all the bullshit to myself all the time. It is not healthy.
I stood still until I felt the shakes of two bodies that were parting ways. I didn’t want to be the one to say, "I know this hurts but it’s time to break... in two pieces," the fault line is not secure. Now a boat or bridge is needed to get back to him. I make mountains out of my worries; and I plant pain instead of sturdy trees. I have got to wash these old sheets, so I can fall asleep. There are times in which I reach for the phone to tell you that there might still be some hope. Holding on to the slack of metaphorical rope, but that’s the whiskey talking though. I hope that you can find some peace in life. Can you survive without me? ‘Cause I thought I’d be fine. Plus the only way I would be able say anything, would be if I was slurring every single line.
This isn’t fair, nobody taught me how to let go. "Just be here now and you’ll be set free from sorrow," that is what I want to hear and at this time. If I can’t see clearly, then how will I know? What the FUCK is point? What is the FUCKING meaning?
Now I’m struggling, I blackout so I can’t dream, but I still see you sneaking through my weary head. I suffer from a drought of medicine to dull self-doubt. I just want to drown you out with southern poison. If I had a drink for every God dammed time I think about your pale skin. Then at least I could sleep. If I had a shot for every God damned time I thought about your face and what I've lost. At least I’d get some sleep.
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| Swing and another miss, you knew he was not going to foul for ever.Rejection, like failure, is not flattering.
I give blood to prove to myself that I can matter to somebody else. Is what makes a man the dirt on his hands? If so, don't put your faith in the desert sand, Because the wind is always blowing. There are gallows deep inside my lungs, that's where I hung ambition. Is it luck that's knocking right on my back door? Because I've been breaking mirrors since 1984. I walk under ladders, I spill salt on sores And I open my umbrella even when I am indoors, So, give me seven more. I give blood not for the cause, but to slowly give up the person I was. Holding my breath won't help, everything went to hell, So now I steal back pennies from the well because my wishes failed. I am screaming at my own shadow to stop living like a ghost. I don't need him; I'm not that desperate. Come visit me in twenty years and maybe then 'Cause I'm not done screaming yet You can call off the intervention, 'cause I don't need your attention. I don't need him; I'm not that desperate. I don't need him; I'm not that desperate. | | |
| "the game has ended and the home team lost... again"
These games we play
Are too much to handle everyday
I won't let them get to me
But when will this end
The pins and needles
Are starting to prick just a little too deep
I
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| EMPATHY
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose
O.K. I'm done.
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be
When the world was younger and you had everything to lose
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