Why do I call you "friend?"
When I'm sure it's love I feel?
And why do I always pretend,
That real just isn't real?
Why do I allot you such a tiny part,
When only you can make me whole?
Why do I seem to withhold my heart,
And in secret surrender my soul?
Why do I always ask for proof,
To the certainties which I know?
Why do I always doubt the truth,
And in disbelief just let it go?