(L. b.)
The idea of loving me, makes her happy,
But not loving me itself.
She likes the way it sounds when I call her mine,
But not the meaning behind the "Mine"
Where draws the line of this façade?
A beautiful charade, hand picked from my poison rack.
An ecstasy, I choose solemnly to believe it's illusions.
The delusion in my head,
I perceive to be delirium.
Overseeing the school of sharks,
And jumping in head straight in the middle,
Just to take one final swim,
Even if it meant killing myself.
I choose willing to believe she loves me,
Even though I know she doesn't.
I pray silently in my mind,
To turn this sleeping beauty,
Into a Cinderella fairy tale.
A fantasy, decorated by my own ideology;
That one day she's finally going to see,
how much she means to me.
And how badly this friend zone, is killing me.