Monday, August 30, 2010

Past is the past.

I hate my memories of you. I can't be to certain places without thinking of you. You're always in my dreams. I hate seeing you in them because its hard to remember that it meant nothing and at the end of the day we are nothing, It's sad how things can be great expect one thing, you were never really mine. So I walk away, my head held high, and my eyes looking straight ahead till what tomorrow brings.

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