Words Words are only as pretty as they can be, until the skin is blown away and the true ugliness of it all unveils. And you can't cry; you can't even point fingers because deep down, deep down, in the hidden corner of your seemingly blank emty mind, everything is so vivid, like charcoal on white paper. But then you pull a blanket over the stain and cover your eyes, swearing not to peak.. ..It's only your own damn fault to not run away before the waves hit shore and destroy that sandcastle of a heart of yours.
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