But how can I see
The glass half full when really
It is all empty
The glass half full when really
It is all empty
in the months of darkness and cold, i never stopped writing.
i just kept it all to myself. every night, my own religion
pages of pen poised on paper, pouring my heart out
i don't want to love someone
because i'm supposed to
you told me, one night in mid-july.
warm air and sun fading in the sky,
i want to fall in love with someone
i've heard this story a thousand times before.
i've seen it unfold. it started with a glance, became a smile,
became a longing. when i realized it was my turn,
i was too late. no one told me how hard it would be
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