We rely on judgement from others to define us
Yet we say we don't like to judge
We lie, mostly without knowing, but we lie all the same
But we can't help it, it's who we are
Our skin can either be warm with the hot blood inside us
Or cold because of the icy world we've placed ourselves in
We look back with regrets
but forward with expectation
We sleep in silence by ourselves
But with others, silence is uncomfortable
This is who we've become
Was this destined? Or did we bring it upon ourselves?
We search for answers
But the big ones are always hidden
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