The problem with you was the way you think. You considered me as your little pet and strung me along everywhere, and I followed and listened to you as if you were mine and I was yours. Everything I had given to you meant nothing and the hole inside of me was already deep and hollow and I didn't want to deal with it anymore. I didn't want to feel that way.
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PoetryI have to fight for a sense of stability and to resist the impulses of the moment. In which I run away from the good.
