Why did i feel sorrow for something that had never before even gotten to of been / all those kind words that she whispered with such feign attempts of conviction / were all failed efforts hoping to convince me her love had been genuine / granted I never feel for the tricks she tried to constantly be pulling / i still admit parts of me felt more broken when suddenly I woke up to the discovery of being alone again / that without warning suddenly I found my self all alone / yet the sting of sorrow only managed to remain for too long / her actions had spoken more truths than her sorry's ever could of done / but now and then I do still often wonder if it truly had been just another work of infatuated piece of fiction / no logic exists within what she considered to of been from her own sound reasoning / i find myself laughing to myself how I thought I fell for a moment that what she was selling had been worthy of sincere feeling / how foolish i had been to of almost accepted her and allowed her to enter the true parts of me I keep from the world so well crafted and perfectly hidden from any viewed observation
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