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Lana's thoughts
I need to run away,
from everything,
clear the mind that still is weighed down by,
Those poisonous things,

I always wonder,
Did I just grow up too fast?
Or is there the immaturity?
Clinging onto what was the end of my life as a child?

Why am I so insecure about my friends?
My life?
My love?
Is the future destined?
Pathway narrow as a telescope.
Or is it like a fan?
Fanning out the different options that will be.

I'm sorry my love,
I really am quite the ******** up,
killing me inside,
I don't want to enlighten the ignorant,
For understanding my pain,
Would bring you greater harm.

I can't stop,
Please blame me,
Not the kitten.
I was stupid,
I was too in love,
Ignorant and happy.
Pained every time I thought something was wrong,
Crying myself to sleep,
Unhappiness caving in.

In truth my doubts were true,
How unfaithful through and through,
My best friend, my love,
Never was truly mine,
And yet it seems,
he doesn't care at all.

He says he's sorry,
But what the ******** does that do?
He doesn't know does he?
The feeling of love burning the inside of a soul.
Fueling everything you do?
The kitten, so cute,
But without a heart,
A monster, hiding his horns.

The problem is I don't know,
I don't know if you can understand,
The pains of being betrayed so bad,
Every code and promise ever made,
My best friend and what was thought to be
a love of pure gold,
Made my heart soar,
In truth it became,
Broken and shattered,
Like a stepped on candy cane.

I'm a ******** up and I'm sorry,
I couldn't afford to fall too in love.
Too scared of someone hitting the replay button.
Forgive me, forgive me.
I beg of thee.

Slowly you've changed me,
My body, my mind, my soul,
Slowly heal, from your presence,
the happiness you bring me,
I hope you stay.

This Cat,
As hurt and scarred as she is,
Through all the problems she's faced,
She's endured,
Silently, to keep others,
in the unknown,
Wants you to stay.

She knows how cowardly,
how selfish,
How hurtful,
She sounds,
But she loves you,
And slowly,
Ever so slow,
There grows a flower
Where you've placed your mark.

You say you're a razor,
Rusted and unused,
If this is true,
I guess Rust is the cure.
Or has become a shovel,
Uncovering more,
Love and care,
And truth.

I'm sure it's a drug in my mind,
And I'm guessing it's slowly becoming dependent,
Ever so slow,
But the addiction is there.
The high I feel,
As my head buzzes and whirls
When placed in your arms.
And that part doesn't want to be cured..

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