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the lies i created in other to able to live today
is aching as my identities being shattered
no wonder nobody nor me noticing
that our drawing is just an imaginary image
being painted with colorful fiction
and when the paint already crumbling apart
can you tell me what lies ahead inside that canvas ?

what will i left behind ?
when our stories is just a pile of misunderstanding
nothing seems make sense to us anymore
so is it still relevant to keep this kind of conversation?
what should i do?
what should i do?
since i am sure our answer will be different