She talked about the armies that marched inside her head, and how they made her dreams go bad. But, oh, how happy she was, how proud she was, to be fighting in the war in the empty world.
She used to just stand there and stare and roll her eyes right up to heaven and make like he just wasn't there.
But how many times can I walk away and wish "If only..."? But how many times can I talk this way and wish "If only..."? Keep on making the same mistake; keep on aching the same heartbreak. I wish "If only...", but "If only..." is a wish too late.
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