He once told me that people are like presents, and
When we die, all that's left is the cold, hard box, but
Everything inside is empty.
He told me that I used to be the most beautiful present he had ever gotten,
But he let me sit out for too long, and he forgot to take care of me, and now I was just
Old and broken and worthless.
I told him that I'd waithereforever, until he found the time to fix me, because
There's nothing else that I could do - no one else would want me now
And I couldn't leave him, nonono.
But he said to me, darling, I don't think there's enough
Room for you here, and you know what we do with the broken gifts, we
Throw-them-all-away.















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