《THE WHITE ROSE PAINTED WITH BLOOD》xv - the art of pretending to be fine

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casual jokes and roasts

he liked seeing his friends smile

playful shoves and pokes

it made him feel a bit valued for

a

while

but in the end, it was just him

alone as a star and just as lonely

his shot filled to the brim

but his chest was

always

empty

his friends didn't know of

his problems back at home

they all had perfect families

while he was

off

alone

he was a master at the art

of pretending to be fine

pretending he had perfect rhythm

when he was a poem that didn't rhyme

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