I’ll close my eyes this final time and whisper my goodbye.
As I lie, laying prostrate, the sacrifice you chose.
I’ll whisper and the words will never reach you.
Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.
I’ve tried and tried and cried and died over and over.
Humiliatingly enough, it never changed anything.
I’m dead already so what is the use?
What’s it worth to keep fighting a dead man, long gone in your mind?
Maybe that’s how it’s meant to be.
I’m gone and forgotten, but still living somewhere, just not here, not inside of you, anymore.
This is how you meant it to be.




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