You gave me wings, and right when I began getting used to them, you cut them off.
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I want to fix myself, but I feel like an old puzzle. Some pieces have gonna missing, I can't find the right place for the others, and I don't have the ingredients nor instructions to make new ones.
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I haven't been happy for so long, I can't even remember how it feels.
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Everyone that left has taken a piece of me with them. Some bigger than others. I don't know what's left of me.
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It's really not fair that I'm still aching for someone who never loved me in the first place.
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You promised that you would stay, that you would be there for me, that you got me. Why didn't you ever have the guts to tell me you were lying? Why did you make me believe that I found my person when you simply felt nothing for me?
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Why is it so easy for everyone to be happy when I'm here, struggling to merely exist?
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Crying on my birthday. How cliché.
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I once wanted something so bad, I let my own dreams destroy me.
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I don't want to be strong anymore. I just want to be happy.
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You found me in a hundred pieces and left me in thousands.
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I've never felt so unloved by so many people at the same time.
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Brief moments of random encounters.
That's what I'm clinging to.
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I let myself dream again. Like it ever works out...
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I can only hope that someday, you will pick it up and take care of it.
You gave me your hair tie, and I gave you a piece of my heart, which you left outside your front door, right besides that bus station I last saw you.
Fair trade.
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You gave me your hair tie, and I gave you a piece of my heart, which you left outside your front door, right besides that bus station I last saw you.
Fair trade.
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