I know my mind is made of matter but I need to know exactly what is the matter at it's core? Because my heart is just a muscle and simply put, it's sore.
I know men are delicate origami creatures who need women to unfold them, hold them when they cry. But I am tired of being your savior and I am tired of telling you why.
It's just hard to travel in the shadow of regret. In fact, it's so hard that I actually haven't left yet.
Emptiness has its solace in that there's nothing left to take.
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