It's an hour of the day when it's ok,
but it's not fine.
I've lost my chance.
My chance is far
from near.
The milky twilight will stain my face a ghostly white
and remind me of my losses,
that I should be caring less about
because I know I only held on to let go.
but it's not fine.
I've lost my chance.
My chance is far
from near.
The milky twilight will stain my face a ghostly white
and remind me of my losses,
that I should be caring less about
because I know I only held on to let go.
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