❝Most days I am a museum of things
I want to forget.❞
[unknown]
ACT I:
MASQUERADE
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She threw herself at heartbreak,
Like a moth drawn to a flame,
Patching up her broken wings,
Just to try it once again,
And the world all thought her foolish,
For she never seemed to learn,
But how do you save somebody,
Who's convinced that they should burn?
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You are so beautiful,
But I do not care,
Because it's hard to be saved,
By a prince who's not there.
— e.h