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The things not to come by Echoofanecho, literature
Literature
The things not to come
When I sit in the bed, where I usually lay
after the usual disapointment, at the end of the day
I come to think of, all the tears that won't be shed
For all the failure, inside of my head
It's not that I want them
it's not that I mourn
It's more that I know
I will always be torn
