it's hard not falling in luv with counting on self... once the passing of truths have no use in another felt... going inward tends to suck the life outta others wanting to cling... as safe is a place within that refuses to hurt when they decide to leave... claiming ride of die yet it's only for their own selfish cause... while the mind gets trapped attempting to correct emotions detailed flaws... it ain't easy to give in when the mirror is ones best friend... knowing the bonnie n clyde fantasy is the lies that vent... pretending to be still standing in the end of everything falling apart... as the bittersweet isn't what lips express that comes far sooner to install fear in the heart... breaking down in eyes to wind up in reflections giggling with sighs... turning on the motion reaching for a touch that cannot get past the vanity hiding reasons not to even try... having comfort in the solitude unlike any luv that ever found depths calling out... talking with a tongue to remind the silence of why life is better without the chaos of expectation crowned... being a peasant among so called kings n queens pretending to be more than reality keeps them humble... the smile doesn't feel they same way to allow desires to tumble... rolling upon the bed to fall off once the newness is gone... substituting wants with needs long enough to lay around a while until willingness feels something's wrong... as it's soothing to drift with time to lock doors without the world that can fuck off... always wanting a temporary sense of hope that fails to delivery more than words demanding passion to go soft... when cutting restraints of change that isn't a natural transition a deeper mood surfaces never to be fuckin disturbed... pretending not to enjoy the company of a special someone loosening to the affect of whispers hushed... telling sound what to say with tone made to believe there's no difference from one person to the next... able to sit alone with what matters for the honesty in it all is no one had it in them to keep doing the same ol shit with what builds up in the chest... jus to be released by empty hands letting go... chasing the thrill of the hype instead of a simpleton who has no interest in wearing figurative thrones... as what's tucked behind the mask worn is pieces of what's been overlooked... sleeping alone with the restless relaxation settled down with fuck you's of disbelief in what has not as of yet been shook...
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