I'm running out of distractions to keep me from the truth, and I'm running out o f places I can go to stay away. This broken glass has only sharpened with the ye ars, and I can't remember how it looked before it fell so fast. What will become of this when I'm gone? It's sad to say, but from here, there's not much left an yways. But tonight I'm staying in, it's warmer than outside. And thoughts can't echo off the walls like through the air. If you can't read this, it's because my hands are shaking from the cold of another night alone. So tell me that to drea m about tonight, because I never got that far on my own. And God, hold onto me t onight. Pull me close before I slip away. I've truned from you, but it might not be too late. And maybe this is wrong, but if it all goes as planned, you'll nev er know I'm gone.
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