It doesn't matter how sweet I am, or how kind I feel that I have to be. All that really matters to me is you, and how based on me you will perceive,

The other men, the other shoes, the many soles slowly passing by. The kind of guys which you might keep, and even ultimately try.

But I hope you see what is truly weak, after sharing such strong arms as these. I hold you now, but not in hand. I hold you still in great esteem.

If only you would esteem yourself, you'd walk on surer, more stable feet. Not into the arms of a tragedy, but into the future which you deserve. Holding tight to a steadier hand than me.