Why would I think you would touch me?
I'm covered in thorns.
Not my fault,
it's the way I was born.
I scare you away,
with every sharp point on my body.
I'm really starting to get sick of saying sorry.
But it's okay,
because you don't want me anyway.
So I'll just wait here,
hoping someday,
someone will remember me.
I hate that I am only loved when you feel like it,
like I'm lovable but only when there is nothing better,
you miss me but you just miss having me as an option,
you wish I was there but only when nobody else is free.
I care too much.
Doesn't sound possible right?
It is,
It definitely is,
and you'd wonder how that would be a problem right?
I want to live,
I want to hear a million songs and dance in the rain,
I want to kiss and make love,
I want to see the world from every angle,
meet people that I will love and ones I won't,
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