Poetry: The Truth

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Dusk has never been that romantic on 8.28
And no one would count that 24 stairs we stepped on.
You always be 20, that never gets to know this 18 well.

This ain't just about the number, in case you wonder am I ever remember you.
You're my first unpredictable one, who suddenly giving up on clouds.
The truth might be hurt you like hell, and you don't wanna know it well.

But dear, we all ever got that scars.
Being rejected, ignored, hurt, and everybody laughed at your foolishness: to keep holding on for nothing.
And I can tell you, they do not feel that deeply broken heart as we are.

Your grief will fly away like the parachute fell down to the earth
Your wound will be healed as you start to let it go.
This path won't show you the future
You are better off without that Philophobia classical girl.

Stop being anyone else, you worth just to be yourself.
Music ... might always be your enemy, but it's a wondrous thing to knowing the truth.
Keep strumming that guitar, maybe you'll find a new song, on your way back home.

Congratulations! Now I let you fly away.

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