Could I cut away the imperfect pieces of me?
Face away from the dark, ugly truth,
That I hide behind in this hollowed out hole,
And however which way you put it, your eyes so adverted,
From the real me - for you are lost behind the illusion,
Of what I once was.

Oh the things you do, the way you shine,
In all my bitterness I can only regret,
That I was never the one to make your world.

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