Hold me in your arms and tell me that tomorrow will be better. That just how the sun sets and it rises again is exactly how my sadness shall disappear and happiness shall take its place. Tell me how every cloud in the horizon can make the sky seem complete, how every curve tells it’s own story. Tell me how I will have my own story to tell, but I must survive through this page and make it to the end of my book. To be able to have lived. To have survived. 


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