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The rain is coming out, and it's bringing its pain
Every time I think of the past again.
Can I shun these thoughts to keep me sane?
No, I cannot...

I think of the past every day
Every time that I come across, I delay.
"Is it alright for me to stay?
Is it alright for me to go away?"

I usually go away to my hiding spot
The one spot that loves me no matter what
But I cannot find that spot, oh no I cannot.
The spot has disappeared, like the rest...

I plea to people who care about me
If they can set me free
From this trouble, and from this pain
If they can, then there is certainly a cure...

I cannot live another day
I cannot live to be a blind man one more day
I am hopelessly blind, too blind to face the truth
When the truth is right at me.

Here lies these scars, so bitter and sweet.
From my rain that was discreet
I wish I could find another spot, one to take away the pain
For, maybe one day, I will live truthfully again...



Credited to Fatal Disease 

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