And so the girl
Who only ever needed a friend
And a shoulder to cry on
Was left
And abandoned
Because she pushed them all
Away.

he doesn't know how
To hold me above water
Like he used to do

I often wonder
Just how easily do a pianist's fingers conform to their keys?
How do guitar strings feel to the talented in comparison to me?
Why are some more gifted as to how they handle a pencil?
And how can a few fortunate souls control their voice to create perfect sounds?
Why do some possess the wonderful abilities of feeling things better than I can?