| Memories rain as ashes
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| No longer young or in love
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| No longer does this life remain enough
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| In reality we are all the same and we just hate ourselves in different ways
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| Sometimes I feel that dealing with the pain is something we are supposed to do
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| Using our failures as tools to cope, but I constantly wonder will it all be
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| worth it in the end?
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| Will we find our inner peace?
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| In this blindness we only have ourselves as guidance
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| Refuse to live this life without a voice, refuse to live this life without a
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| choice
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| Nobody cares about the truth if the lie keeps us refined and content with our
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| decay
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| When silence becomes betrayal
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| With emotions as delicate as moth wings
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| We wait to be touched by love, to die again and again |