Everytime I tell you that I'm doing
okay—everytime
I lie to you—I break a little more
inside, I lose yet another part of me; but I
can't bring myself to tell you what I'm
really feeling because that would hurt you,
and I can't—won't—do
that; so I'll keep it inside instead,
hurting myself instead because
I'd rather be in more pain that put you
through any.
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