fall is clamoring at the doorstep, wind. cool air hits the sheets on my bed in the mornings long before i should be awake it's when i'm cold and i wake up crying and my bed feels like it's four thousand miles from anywhere else anyone else
you're not on my voyage. it's me alone, in the turbulent sea of disillusionment. no shores, no end to the horizon, and nothing but more thrown out opportunity
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but at least it isn't
you're not on my voyage. it's me alone, in the turbulent sea of disillusionment. no shores, no end to the horizon, and nothing but more thrown out opportunity
you only say that because you feel like you should
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