We often hate the ones we need to keep us alive. I see your eyes begin to whisper as the indecision dies. I washed my hands of your disgrace. You play the victim in every script you write. I'll never be the person that you wanted me to be. You couldn't bear to witness the flames in which you breed. You can't escape from what you miss. You came to me on faded night with broken words (now breathe). Come face to face, you realize I'm not the same. I'm not the person you met. I'm just the crumpled piece of paper you pushed in your pocket. You cast your plague filled with disease. One broken life. Where are these demons that you see? I wake up and turn to face the sun. The clouds, the wind, the rain remind me I'm alive. Now breathe. Face your demons cause either way it's always coming back to you. Could it be anything that ever was meant for me no more? Cause either way it always comes back to you. It always comes back.
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