Why do people come,
To make me laugh?
To know me?
To befriend me?
To love me?
Why do people come and go?
To make me laugh,
Then make me cry?
To know me,
Then criticize me?
To befriend me,
Then never trust me?
To love me,
Then I'll love you,
Then we'll be happy,
Then leave me,
Then forget me?
You can never predict the ending of your story. Unless you planned it ever since you started. But taking the risk for tomorrow has a better ending, than being broken for the broken plan.