I was alone only 18.
A new cigarette with the same dreams.
A postal apology was not amused.
I lied to you. I couldn't face the truth covered up in my jeans.
Ok I admit it I was wrong at times, but you always crossed the line as apologetic with hints of despise that never seemed too wrong for you.
You'll never face the truth that you're a deadly disease.
All of me wants part of you to leave. To retract what you've left of me.
I know it won't take me too long to make this a raincheck.
A problem that rarely gets resolved with a change of direction.
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