A heart attack, 39 and never coming back. False hope, you faked your way through building house and home. Can you feel? Have you ever been taken away from your whole life? Another world, supposedly I'm better now.
Is it hard? Do you miss the boy you raised? At least I'm trying to be happy. Have you had your fill? Did taking your flesh, your blood make you real? Or are you choking on the thought.
I can't heal your burning body. And track marked arms, they fear nobody.
What if I was just too scared to say, that you were what made me this way? And out of all the things that I could forget, why couldn't it be this?
Am I someone that you'd like to know?
I'm dying to know
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