Genius
Misnomer
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Wrapped inside a near-motionless heart
Stored inside a cold harmony
Something we like to call maturity
Stains of hope that used to live in the past
Distant cries of a now forgotten promise
The reflection that is smeared
Eternal youth isn't a reality
There is no such thing as destiny
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Where did I put my happy face?
Where did I put my happy face again?