Why does life have to be so hard?
Why can't we just be the things we
wish our hearts to be?

Why does every encouragement
come with a concealed lie?
My back is filled with old knife wounds,
promises and lies.

On the crowded street called life
I watched all those people pass by
some assisted and some not.
As I stood right there, cemented.

And I watched those I love, love and lie to me
And I watched as I loved and lied to them.
Tell me

Why don't hearts change too?
Are we fated for "too late"?
Are we doomed for failure?

Is it okay to live half dead,
loved and lied to.
I am loved and lied to.