Come out and face me you coward of a shadow

A heavy sense of nostalgia

Your visits were such a sacred thing to me

I can't believe it's just a burning memory

Cry my eyes out > put cold spoons on my eyes > repeat

us, when?

Depression at its finest

A cup of tea now will make it all bearable

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Just how small they make me feel
And how magnificent you make me feel

Better than weeping honestly

Imagine waking up at 4 am to find your depressed mad wife doing a performance with circus music playing on the background