Her hair is like the sun,
Lighting up the day.
Mine is like the midnight sky,
To which lost souls gaze in utter dismay.
Her eyes of gentle, calming blue,
And mine of piercing gold,
My simple, sad, repeating story
Is just now being told.
Every time, I understand.
I expect this dull feeling-
I don't stand a chance.
The girl with the fleeting
Look in her eyes,
With raven black hair,
And a deadly fire in her smile.
She's never the one,
The one to catch his eye.
And though it pained her deeply,
She learned, on her own, how to fly.