A poor script


I’m a sentimental fool
With nothing left to lose
I’d give up on living
If I had the right to choose

Life isn’t a movie
No running to catch someone at the airport
Just lying awake in bed
Trying to get over the hurt

Waking up, going through the motions
Been months and no tears left to cry
Just pretending that I’m OK
With the space between you and I

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