...but he's got a good hold on me.
He's aesthetically confused,
with an abnormal state of mind.
He's never been outside his box
of diseased paranoia.
But does he want to escape?
Although he's dumb when it comes to thought
and he's a disaster beyond imagine,
h e s t i l l m a k e s m e m e l t .
Taking captive of my hopeless heart,
having no choice but to give in;
But can the human heart realize ones faults?
Can it love beyond them?
You'd never think twice for sarcraficing such a thing
for such a personlike him;
You'd never think once for hurting yourself
for such a person like him,
so why am I?
What happens to a heart that's still hopelessly caressed?
Do the butterflies inside it flutter so much they implode?
Does it still wrench to the thought of impossibility to help?
Does it love thou even for it's mistakes?
...or does it explode?