Broken:
I may seem fine on the outside, I may still smile and laugh and speak the same. I may even still make my usual rounds to the bar with my good friends, but the truth is. On the inside I'm broken. My smile's nothing but a fake. My laugh is to hide my pain and my speech pattern is more disturbed than it may seem. To wash away that neverending pain, I've got nothing left but to drink it away, I used to be an all around fun person, but now I'm an all around fake. All because he left.
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A/n:
one hundred yet again (this is fun) how's about another?
