Tell me,
How do you manage
to encage my heart
of steel, in your
wooden cell? How do
you keep the handcuffs
wrapped around my
thorny skin? How do
you make my chained
heart go in the race?
Tell me,
How do you make me
feel worthless, when I
always felt important
all my life? How do you
make me feel inferior,
made of error, when I
am impeccably
beautiful?
Tell me,
How do you make me
fall, while making me
holding on that thin
strip of hope that
you'll someday see,
that we're the nights of
happy- ever- afters,
sweet cold nights of
winter, in my mind full
of your laughter?
Tell me,
Can you see me?
Or you just see
only that thin strip
of hope in her eyes
of danger?
Baby, they all are
beautiful, but
would they write
poetry about you?
Tell me, oli,
Will you catch
me?
Will you believe
in my poetry,
by your slavery
over me? Count-
ing stars above
us, exclude me
her fanstasy.
-thescriptwriter
