The hum of the fridge, the washing machine spinning in the background, a ticking clock in a quiet room…
Those seem to be the moments when it hits me, an I realise how bad things have gotten, how bad my life is, an how alone I really feel
Where is the boy I used to know, used to be, always happy, with a smile that would make people think butter wouldn’t melt
I used to be him, so he’s still in here somewhere, in the dark, locked away an alone
Now I only pretend, the memory of that boy a script I live off of
I think we all hear the person we once were in our subconscious, calling out an asking ‘what happened to you’
A mirror, reflecting back the person we have become
We call out for help, an in return, what we get back is only the echo
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