GOD; is it even for me to exercise my love
Cos I'm not fit to love, running out of chances,
running red as the blood running out my nose
the sense of smell is gone, I can never smell
any of those good intentions.

And as I cover my face at such an odd hour,
I feel uneven by how I must cover up pain with \
another smile on my face
Still you can see what drips out,
the stains are always present and on my shirt.

I need a tissue to wipe my ****** nose,
and another to wipe the tears from crying about love.