i'm the book on the shelf with dust between the pages, wishing you'd open me up instead of blow me off. i'm the papercut that wakes you up when you've fallen in to dreamland instead of taking notes, and i'm the dream you had when you were five that's causing you to check your closet twice a night before you can shut your eyes.
i'm nothing more than what others consider bad news, and i let them think it because it's easier than showing them otherwise. dreams and hopes fill my mind on a daily basis, and i keep them to myself, stuck between the lines of a song you never really wanted to listen to.
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