Doubts were the roots of your destructive pull
Which split us into two cells."I never meant to hurt you" is the ruleBetween those that break soft shells.But I am not soft or delicateJust innocent and yes, hurt... Hurt.Numbers and rules were your predicateThe doubtful suspicions in the pocket of your shirt.I wrote you a letter once upon a timeIt sat on your shelf, but now, not there,It lies in a cell like it committed a crimeBy telling you of the love most rare."You're wrong" you told me once,Like a playground fight from your younger days,But then "liar" pierced my heart like the lance,And so - I left, left you to your new ways.
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