Here we stand in the ruins of our lies,
Here we stand in the ends of our ties.

And when I thought my life has been planned,
And when I thought our plans has been tied,
I thought, I thought, I just thought.

Has the pen run out of story to write,
For I know I have so much to site.

Was I the one? Were you the one?
When all this time you were gone.

The sun meets the moons for a reason,
And here I am seeking for a beacon.

Promises and memories,
Secrets and mysteries,
Were turned into histories
– alyjane ♡

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