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Me, myself, and Irenne
Me, myself, and Irenne

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Ode to the ones I love

Finding an outlet is hard, strange, unusual
People that know me, don't know me
Like most "fake it till you make it" seems real
Not right, just something that "is real"
Only thing that is present not past

Love is past
By the time you feel it
Understand the concept
It's gone, past

So what is real now
The words I say
Thoughts I write
Yet love doesn't feel real
Grasping like a man drowning in his own lungs
Love, is so hard, long distance

See the rainbow
Where shades of black become grey
I can only feel this when in person
Maybe I should be thankful
See this as a break
Go and find my boys and have ourselves a Drink

As this was going to happen, eventually, I think?
They'd get partners and leave home
Yet when ever I see the rainbow
It's only coated with black

Black as my mind, tick, tock,
"Grass is greener on the otherside"
"What! You promised me"
"We can only make it greener in your dreams"

Haunted, lonely, green
Like a stream that only bleeds red
Nothing to contribute, only poison or displace
Falling to the bottom, becomes black not green

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