Within my mind, perfect you stand,
And it's you who holds the upper hand,
Yet we are but acquaintances, at last,
An obscure future and without a past,
Obsessive habit besieges once again,
A distant appreciation with tainted fame,
For in your presence, I have become afraid
You shan't be the person who I have made.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 1:01 PM UTC
Within my mind, perfect you stand,
And it's you who holds the upper hand,
Yet we are but acquaintances, at last,
An obscure future and without a past,
Obsessive habit besieges once again,
A distant appreciation with tainted fame,
For in your presence, I have become afraid
You shan't be the person who I have made.
