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The echoes of those lies...

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The stories that I told myself to ease the lonely ache now haunt my waking moments, the promises they break. •The phantom comfort, woven in the night, Now claws at dawn, and steals away the light. •I built a fortress, from illusions spun, But shadows creep, and battles are begun. •Each whispered 'maybe,' each imagined grace, Returns a specter, in this empty space. •The echoes of those lies, a constant, chilling sound, Where solace once resided, now only wounds are found.   •The painted smiles, the words I longed to hear, Now twist and mock me, fueled by rising fear. •My heart, a stage where fantasies once played, Now holds a theater, where truths are re-betrayed. •The warmth I sought, within my crafted dream,  Has turned to frost, a cold and bitter gleam.

You are used to your features,...

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𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒔, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓.