Im trying. For you. You asked me to write, to try to sing, to make a melody out of these jumbled thoughts and ideas. But i can't. I guess i just don't know how. How to put these thoughts into words and these words to music. So i stit, and i wait. For something to come to me. But it doesn't. i wouldnt even know where to begin. Anger? Love? Longing? But none of those seem right. And i want this to be mine. Mine alone. Because nothing ever is. Not really.
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