Around Here We Mourn Our Young

Failing to tend to wounds years old every morning
I wake up flinching it's the sharp end of faking it
That sticks out to stab those who get too close tomorrow's some time
To wait when all i have's today to vomit words that feel like nails
Towards a heart that cares not what i feel and when what i feel and when



Credits
Writer(s): Binary
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