The most beautiful girl in the world is not the girl of my dreams.
She doesn’t appear in the sunlight and somehow gleam.
She isn’t some girl from a movie, book or painting.
Yet I will be the guy who forever ends up caring.
The girl of my dreams is perfect.
She’s stunning and intelligent, and her happiness can reflect.
She loves me for who I am and who I want to be.
I don’t love her, though, she doesn’t have the key.
My heart was lost in an ocean of despair and was uncovered.
It’s hard to understand how much I have suffered.
Yet the most beautiful girl in the world removed the rust.
It once covered my heart, but she showed me love over lust.
The most beautiful girl in the world is stunning and compassionate.
She makes her own luck when life makes her misfortune.
She shows strength when alone and courage when surrounded.
How could the most beautiful girl in the world be the same from my dreams?
I would rather stop dreaming for a reality
Than to accept mortality over morality.
She isn’t perfect for she exceeds all definitions of perfection
And I couldn’t dream of giving anyone else the same affection.