time *****
it is always moving
never stopping
controlling our lives
it makes us late,
or unreasonably early
when relaxing
theres never enough
when suffering
there always too much
time

She loves how I act,
                                   But I don't see why.
She loves how I talk,
                                    But I hate it.
She loves how I think,
                                     But I don't get it.
She loves how I look,
                                     But I never saw it.

She loves, and I will never see,
Being all in love, and yet so unworthy...

i want to die,
but its so hard to say
*goodbye