it takes some time. wasting weeks, months, years of your prime. my heartaches ignore the amount of time it takes or the effort my pulse makes when i can feel it beating. yet it keeps repeating. have you heard me complain and whine about how i'm alone all of the time? the comfort of what i can't call mine keeps telling me that i'll be fine. i closed my eyes in the hopes to fall asleep, an attempt to find some sense of peace. when every bad memory i keep are at most just ghost that wont stop haunting me.
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