why do I insist
I have no backbone, for nothing else
drunk I can believe anything again
and the hope fills my drunken heart
I'm not able to even write without auto corrector
As always I have absolutely zero idea of what I am doing, or how I am doing
but this feeling
this longing
even if I shun it with all my heart
even if I'm made to believe that I'm really hollow
somewhere, somehow, its still here
roots deep and sharp as memory
I just wish I could love myself as much as I love you
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