you are your own suffering; you are your own happiness. too late...

These walls are cold, there is the sound of only the cats on the roof. Oh that's the train. I missed my chance, a chance that comes 4 times a day. Not to worry. This room smells of diamonds. These sheets feel like, you.

For one day who would you be?
Me? Id be you.
So I knew how you feel. How I felt to you.

What I want I can't have. What I need I don't want. Simple. No.

You don't have the answer. Yet I keep asking with every take by looking to the bottom of you. I know better. Do i?

I feel like no ones favorite. I don't feel pretty. Probably cause all I took was that I'm not a good person. Am I ?. Do you really not like what I am. What I've done. Or do you need to inquiry yourself,
is that really true ?
I'm just as sad and lonely, rejected and not needed even more. Whatever It doesnt feel it matters.
All I have are memory's, memory's that may just fade. After what was said, why would you hang.

So why do all good things come to an end?
Because nothing lasts forever.

Yet
Something is created from nothing.

So when this door closes, i'll be there waiting for the next door to open.
and if our doors will ever open again...I'll be a different person.
Not suffering inside

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