personal morals
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I wasn’t made to beautiful
I’m not some flower to be admired
A perfume for you to smell
I don’t have a stem for you to pick.
I wish I could warn you
To her I had clung,
Haunted by the melody she’d sung.
Only bitter pieces remained,
And the numbness waned.
“Don’t cry,” she’d say,
I'll cry for you,
I'd die for you,
Take it to the other side for you.
Get high with you,
I'd fly with you,
See my heart is open wide for you.
I'll sigh for you,
