| psl. |
[19 Oct 2009|11:33pm] |
She doesn't look, she doesn't see, opens up for nobody. Figures out, she figures out - narrow line, she can't decide. Everything short of suicide. Never hurts, nearly works. Something is scratching it's way out, something you want to forget about. A part of you that'll never show; you're the only one that'll ever know. Take it back when it all began, take your time. Would you understand what it's all about, what it's all about?
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