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Missa Defunctorum
praise the lost souls, it'll set yours free
It's nothing personal, you're an embarrasment.
Mood: Tired.
Song: Sleeping Sickness - City and Colour


We run with the wind.
What you are, what we are,
Who we've become to one another in such a short time;
It's very unsettling, confusing even,
But I wouldn't change it for the world.

I'll make this promise because I know I can keep it,
I'll tell you some things, but not everything,
I won't tell anyone everything,
Other than Brianna.

You may not understand;
Why I don't just say how I feel,
Why I don't wear my heart on my sleeve.
But I wish you could.

It just isn't that simple anymore,
Because it doesn't get fixed,
In fact, it seems that it makes people want to keep doing it.
Don't you get it?
People are actually sick.
They're cruel, hurtful, spiteful.

They live on hate,
But desire love.
We're all just a little depressed inside,
But we can hide it, I promise.
And I'll hide it.

You'll never see me cry.
You'll never see me frown.
Grimace, pout, whine.
None of that.

I want you to think of me as something positive,
Beautiful, magestic, everything you need in someone.

I'll hold your hand,
We'll become as close as we possibly can;
One day, I'll let my guard down.
Just not today.





 
 
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