it's funny how i would always
expect you would show up in
a heartbeat,
knowing that you would
never expect me to be alive.

how can you expect me to be good in everything,
how can you expect me to have good grades all the time ,
how can you expect me to look lovely,
when i am just a human.
my creaking heart is already trying to survive from this riot
and i am just this little to almost lose myself in this transitory hallucination

don’t you dare expect me to be something,
even if it’s for my own good.
i am my own good.
and i’ll make it out alive

it's like,
my heart and soul are made for you

i love you,
  but this is killing me.

They say hearts like this will break more often.
The kind of heart
That are well-natured,
but also a storm.

these kinds of hearts will break more often,
fights more often,
cries more often,
But will always stands up.