I sit in my throne of pride,
Saying I’ve got nothing to hide;
"An inhuman person, holding face,
One will never see his fall from grace."
The tension starts to strangle,
And my body I’ll continue to mangle;
"A hardworking soul, who’ll never tire,
Even as the bar raises higher and higher."
My love increases, yet I sit and wait.
It’s over my head, I’m starting to suffocate.
"Married to his work, he will not love.
He lies not in such concepts, but far above."
I don’t know what’s happening to me,
My life is continuing into uncertainty.
"He knows what to do, he’s set on a path,
His definite success will fill him a bath."
I don’t need attention, the problems are mine.
I won’t ever worry another, It will work out fine.
"For him, things will always go right.
He’s hand in hand with luck’s vast might."
Things always find a way...
"His present & future are rather gray..."
This is my actual self versus what I think people think of me (quotes). People oftentimes reinforce these thoughts, and I end up falling further into this cycle. In the second to last stanza, I am saying that it will be fine in a dying hope.