Why do I love the sound of your voice,
When my ears bleed from the same noise?
Why do I love the feeling of your palm,
When I feel my skin burn against your arm?
Why do I become melancholy and depressed,
Thinking the thought of me never pops up in your head?
Why do I torture myself with a fantasy love,
When I know nothing I do will ever be enough?
My likes and dislikes don\'t mean a thing to you,
Meanwhile the thought of you is ingrained in me, I wish it wasn\'t true.
I am pathetic, I am weak, I am no match for you.
And even if I was, what is there that I could do?
We are not meant to be, and of that I am sure
At this point I am certain \"I love you\" would be a slur.