It’s a curse —
or maybe it’s a blessing.
It’s not my place to judge —
I’d only be biased,
so I let you judge for me.
A cup filled with water,
add a little more and
it will overflow,
spill every which way.
I’m a cup, overflowing with love,
spilling in every direction,
sometimes landing in harsh hands,
promising eternity,
but those hands leave
once their thirst is quenched.
So I wait,
a full cup left untouched
in an empty castle,
hoping for a king.
Is it a curse,
believing in a throne
no one wants to sit on?
Going through phony princes,
pretending to be kings!
Is it a blessing,
to still hold this much love
and not let it rot —
or is it a curse?
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 11:12 AM UTC
It’s a curse —
or maybe it’s a blessing.
It’s not my place to judge —
I’d only be biased,
so I let you judge for me.
A cup filled with water,
add a little more and
it will overflow,
spill every which way.
I’m a cup, overflowing with love,
spilling in every direction,
sometimes landing in harsh hands,
promising eternity,
but those hands leave
once their thirst is quenched.
So I wait,
a full cup left untouched
in an empty castle,
hoping for a king.
Is it a curse,
believing in a throne
no one wants to sit on?
Going through phony princes,
pretending to be kings!
Is it a blessing,
to still hold this much love
and not let it rot —
or is it a curse?
Overflowing with feelings again.
This one came from that slow ache kind of love
where you give and give, and still wait for someone to see the throne you’ve built for them.
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