You ask me for the world, But I can only give you myself In parts.
I'm the love letter,
Bottled up and thrown into the wide vast ocean, Floating on the surface,
Going in directions,
Letting the waves carry me along.
I'm afraid of the consequences. What if I am found by the wrong person?
What if every word written in the letter
Is misunderstood?
The definition of perfection
In this society
Is perceived by the cluster of normals and commons. And people like you and me,
We're unusuals, outcasts,
Among these hate-filled hearts
Who grade love with
Gender, age, religion and race.
So please forgive me,
if I'm scared hold you
When you need me to.
For I love you,
But I can't be with you.
