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Although it’s a tale we often don’t want told,
As the saying goes, many of the good die young
While the bad grow old.
And for that fate we’ll never know how many souls are sold
To tempt odds or tempt gods,
But surely we do know that nothing stays as gold.
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There’s this terrible feeling of tightness in my chest
That I’m not really living this life
And that one day, when the days become irreplaceable
I will regret it.
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Of course I want you to fall for me; even more though, I want the adventure of falling for you.
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It’s true that some friends help bring you out of your shell, but there are others that you trust enough to let in.
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I inhaled that cold winter air in the small hours of the night
And it burst out of me into a warm, a real laugh.
This is what it feels like to be young and to be alive.
So glad to be alive.
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Tomorrow you will meet the love of your life.
And on next Sunday, you’ll bump into someone by accident, and they will turn into the friend you grab a coffee with every weekend.
Three years from now, a book will be written that changes the way you see yourself and all the lives around you.
And in a decade, you will stand at the top of a mountain, with your breath taken away by the view of the city and sea below that you have never seen.
There is time.
And there is so much to come.
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Only you kept the pain from tearing me apart —
You are the home that holds my heart.
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Seek adventure and it will find you.
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I’m sorry I didn’t realize how thin the string was between you and me; how rare these ties would be.
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Open the shutters; do not be afraid to let the light in.
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When your eyes hold mine,
Waves cease crashing, wind is still,
Like time froze with us.
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Maybe everything has ended not how it was supposed to, and I can’t tell you how long that will hurt. But you can push on. You will survive.
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I think I turned you into a human form of my desperate need to be wanted, desired, loved —and for that, I am sorry for the both of us.
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I am a tumbleweed blowing along a dusty path,
Swept by a wind, neither turbulent nor gentle,
Always rolling around the thought of you and me,
Pausing briefly but inevitably resuming,
Down a road that I think I travel alone.
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the cacophony of life is filled
sometimes with rattling breaths and wailing eyes,
overrun by what must be only described as
the sound of shrieking heart strings.
and so I’m slowly bleeding out by my lies and their’s too,
as we’re all driven to death by our kings,
those villains (and lovers) that wish for these terrible roars.
and so death beckons our sacred love
to beats us down deeper, down deeper again.
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When you’re young, you dream of what things will be like when you’re older.
When you’re older, you dream of what things were like when you were young.
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I fear for the ships
That sail my ocean-sized heart.
Heaviness sinks deep.
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