And now here we are, back into the roles that we are used to. You, a smiling face with a sad heart that I want to save. Me, the girl with too many problems that she drowns in hard liquor and smiling faces.
I at least can see the end now. There is reassurance in that, though not comfort. It is not a comfortable thing to have your heart break again. To see the impossible out the door. But it is familiar.
The devil you know, after all.
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