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He was a boy and I had a star to hang myself on if he let go. So, I shook his hand and put up a fight and let him decide if I could ever be right. And he said: I
was
a
tortured
child
from
the
start.
the
pain
in
my
head
matched
the
emptiest
heart.
A
pen
in
my
hand
was
my
deadliest
sin.
The
words
flew
out
while
the
rest
stayed
in. Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels in the morning? Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels when you pretend? Spare me the empty-handed surprises and watch where you swoon when you're standing on me. If there is a word that shows you're in love, don't choke on the sound as it spills from your throat. Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. don't you care how this all feels in the morning? Don't feed me lines about your abstract heart. Don't you care how this all feels when you pretend?