Told myself I was strong. But I'm not. Still falling down to my knees, over indulging in my addictions whenever the silence speaks louder than words. Not that I'd ever admit it, no I'm still coating the truth with washed up excuses. Like a cloak over my sins. Question is, for who? To feed my denial or shred your curiosity before it turns into concern? Yet I forget how mundane it is to try and reason irrationality.
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