It waits. They are gone, the song has played through, it's another sad end. Yet still it waits. A house with its heart of wood, blood being memories, the stained table cloth, the spilled juice. The happy times, that now hold no meaning.
They did once.
Another side of the puzzle where a new song is starting, not good nor happy. Just neutral. Holding within it the guided false idea of beauty. The rich in money not thoughts.
Then the side who waits with quirky smiles, and shining beauty. With games of catch and wishing upon stars. The pick ups, the come backs.
Also a side with a lie of charming smile that lasts until you know it. You have your two sides, so you chose.
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