I opened up my curtains and the sun hit me in the face like a giant bubble bath.
I squinted as I took in the scenary of my back-garden.
Music played softly in the background
Michael Jackson's Billie Jean
Colbie Callait's Realize
People always say that love songs spell out just what their thinking
But I haven't found one yet that explains me
I've always thought of writing my own love songs, but I can't rhyme
Like when I try to write my own stories, it's so boring and structured like marble statues
Personality shall not shine through this time
Poetry, now that's a way to express yourself
The words just flow from my fingertips, and I don't even know their coming until their down on the page infront of me
I'm not perfect, and anyone who says they dont wish they were, are liars

I thought to myself the other day, would I rather see all my friends happy, and fufilled, and myself miserable than myself completed and them miserable?

I'd rather be the miserable one, the one who nobody get's
I get me, and I think you do too