How much I'd like to stab my knives in my heart, die and die. You don't understand, no. You do not understand. You do not understand. You can't understand.
The only one I know is how many times I felt, how many times I died, how many times I was buried, how many times I entered the ground.
What I couldn't delete erased me. Why couldn't I? Why couldn't I? I'm guilty of every situation. I'm responsible for everything. Willingly or unintentionally. I am, I want to understand my soul, I'm guilty when I want to understand.
I wanted to give you a stab wound, your wound was the most bleeding. I'm dying of blood loss. I'm dying, I wish I was dead. In a real sense. It'il hurt less than you do.
You don't even want your favorite person in life. What does this mean? You're deprived. It means nothing.
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