And I believed, yes, I did believe quite foolish, he was mine to have and to hold
But what a fool I was, to believe such a thing, for his heart could never truly be mine
And even if so, my heart could never truly be his, which didn't suit me just as fine.
For that was how it seemed to belong, however, my hands held another
My hands held the one of whom I felt was more of a brother
And how saddened I was to find I could not hurt him, yet how can I,
A person of impulsive ambition and strong will, of my heart's desieres, deny?
And so I find, that in order to be happy, that I must hurt my friend
And somehow, it must all come together and be okay, in the end
But come to think of it, nothing is ever truly okay, and how can things be okay?
Right now it all sounds very wrong, the very fact I have to hurt my friend someday.
Yet, I think the love of whom I love will mend the broken shards and once more
Once more, I can forget about everything but being with the one whom I adore
And from his strength would I find my own and from my own strenght, I would carry on
Even when the skies are dreary from clouds, I'll find a star to wish upon.
And like a child clings to their mother, I shall cling to a hope that one day
Everything will be okay, and perhaps everything bad will just happen to go away
But that is all for naught, for I fear that without the bad, there would be no good
Everything would just be neutral, and there would be a rather boring mood.
Perhaps I should not cling to anything at all, but it seems that I cling to my love
And what good will this do? To hurt a friend? That is not the good that I hear of
But it won't matter, it simply won't... All I need is him, and maybe,
Just maybe, he thinks the same way I do... All he needs is me.
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