"He'll never like you,
nor, love ya."

The reality has slapped me hard.
So hard.
But I must go on,
I must sail my ship to another harbour,
And leave, the old one.

He's such a saint, and I'm a sinner.

"We shouldn't love, we're different."

Like a ****** hand that holds thorny roses so tight,
I let him go.

I let him go, like I let my blood dries up, after I throw the thorny roses, away.