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I'm just an empty coffee cup, with nothing left in me and all of the stains from the past.
i can no longer be your pick-me-up.
How far I’m moving away from her
She is becoming close to her

I want her to laugh
But not with the other
And I’m becoming the other

Why I’m wounding myself
By remembering all her words
And now there is no words
Which forces me to wound myself

Let her be herself
And Let me be myself.
Pain of possessive.
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