Betrayed by my own story

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Yesterday scared me.

Not because of where the conversation went,

More because in that moment, I felt so free.

That freedom was normally very expensive but now it doesn't cost a cent.

Sadly it was still wrong,

All those flirts that rolled off my tongue,

It was still not the right lovesong,

Even if it felt like the love was very, very strong.

I hate the fact that I fell down while I was almost up again

The fact that the author of my story made me fall ever deeper

The way that I was betrayed by their ballpen

Even though, he was never and will never be a keeper

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