Leave my best intentions at home and drive around. This city’s dead and tired and unsure of how to feel.
Another bad attempt at feeling okay in the town I’m in. I begin feeling sad and I’m sick, and I finally come to realize…
The seasons come and go, blind with promises. I love you now, I loved you a year ago today. Yet, I hate the feeling of your fingers on my face.
We both tried our hardest to save this, yet, I hate the feeling of your fingers on my face.
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