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Monday, May 7, 2007

To She

I can't be a saint, I wont be a sinner,
I'll only be me, and that's your lover.
You fathom friendship, I deduce deeper,
You claim it's affection, but I am already a weeper.
You had a choice and you chose right.
It's my fault that i face this plight.
You're not to blame, you never did sway,
It's entirely my fault for not keeping it at bay.
Alas! i have said it, and ruined you most.
Cursed neither with friendship nor nuptial toast.
It's only right that you despise my soul,
There is nothing i can now expect in whole.
I am happy for you and what'll become of your life.
I hope you remember me and my meaningless strife.
It's come to this, sad but true.
No more can I be anyone more than a who.
You've gained your desires, your future's bright blue.
For me though, in a different way, it's all blue too.
With what's left of me this love song i write.
Knowing this is the first and last time it'll ever be sung right.

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