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Poem:



Face down, on top of your bed.
Oh why did I give it up to you?
Is this how I shoot myself up high,
Just high enough to get through?

Sad boy, you stare up at the sky
When no one's looking back at you.
You wear your every last disguise;
You're flying, then you fall through.

Again, the false attention.
Again, you're breaking inside.

Stars feel like knives,
They tell us why we're fighting.
Storm, wait outside.
Oh, love, hold us together.