Such a goddamn letdown.
Desolation at its finest.
Complete and utter anguish.
You're right, kid,
don't think this is for you.
About you.
Because of you.
Prosper in the glory,
because I'm a lair.
At my finest, I might be told the truth.
Whatever exists in the places unspoken
doesn't define the confliction,
or revive my afflictions.
Such a shame.
A young mind pondering love.
So dense.
Who saw it coming?
Believe me, I would've put a stop to that train.
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