Not everyone
can be a star
That shines bright
even from a far

But even a star
needs darkness
For its light
to shine brightest

You're my addiction
my guilty pleasure
everything you are
is a treasure

I tell myself
to let you go
but the urge
to see you
overgrows

You're the only one
who makes my heart pump
And you're the only one
who can make it stop

All I see
is risk after risk
but what is life
without a little
danger?
After all,
you're no stranger

I know I'm not an orange, but I feel like one at times.
My heart feels encased until someone peels the rinds.
Now I'm open for the tasting, but something in me dies--
I'll be left as bits of scraps; left to feed the flies.

Yea, I know I'm not an orange, but I'm rhymeless all the same.
To most wanderers I won't fit anywhere; I just can't be framed,
Though, perhaps, some may see challenge for another day...
At least that's the way I think everyone feels, anyway.

Look, I know I'm not an orange, but I feel acidic just like one.
The farmer's hand can't leave me be; the chaos is never done.
So I'm stripped and sectioned off for all the world to own.
I know I'm not an orange; I'm just a citrus fruit with bones.