I’m alone.
I’m by myself.
I hurt.
I’m in pain.
And all I see is you.

I don’t know who you are.
I don’t know what you do.
I’ve never even seen you before, not physically.
But I trust you.
I have faith.

I know you’ll come.
I know you can see me
here, hurting and alone.
I know you have hope.
And that gives me hope.

Hope that you can fix me.


I’m fake.
I have problems.
I drown myself in them.
I put on a face to show the world “I’m fine.
But I want to make you notice,
I want to make you care.

The truth is, I love my problems.
I love pretending I’m broken,
just so I can dream of you fixing me.

_ part|three

I’m kidding myself with this “I’m broken” crap.
I find myself a cliff, walk right up to the edge
and tell you I can push myself off,
but actually, if I keep doing this
I’m going to trip and fall anyway.
If I keep pretending,
I’m scared I’ll end up properly messed up
and you really won’t care.
Then what will I do?

Will I find you’ve fixed me?


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