The roses that were red
You seen me more in my blues
The small tips of sugar
For those without a silver spoon

Euthanasia,
Likely for us without anymore patience
Yes my heart with racing,
Between running from myself,
And running after you

My eyes that were red
Crying all other days in dews
I woke as the self version I hate,
And longing to be selfish of you

Sigh,
My long lost number two
Has split me up in
2