I'd rather just be dead, than alive like this. A prisoner of my head to this Bastille house built on my heart. I'm lost in thoughts. I've lost my way. I'm lost in what was and last year. Take a shovel to the soil and uproot this empty house. Strike a match on the wall of this house that we've built. Let it fall to the floor onto thoughts from before. I can't stay in this home.
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