Sitting down in a caff,
And a book called symposium (1)
Fills your mind, with a torrent of thoughts and small guilt

Be alone, it is best in the end
And imprison yourself
So the hurt, be contained

You thought love, was so fair
You're a *****, it's hard
And it's harsh
Do not lie to yourself
And stop lying to her

You are selfish, she's not love
But your hostage you trapped
In a web of emotions you built
You're a ******, it's okay to admit
You need help. This is sick.

You don't love her.