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I make the cracks, then call them fate.
I hide, then ache no one can see.
Cut out my shape, then show up late,
Still wondering why it’s not me.
yours truly.
bottom of page
I make the cracks, then call them fate.
I hide, then ache no one can see.
Cut out my shape, then show up late,
Still wondering why it’s not me.
yours truly.