She is so . . . boring
She sits and stares and reads and eats
She likes simple things
She calls herself a hermit --
To bury the truth of friendless, perhaps?
Empty in her eyes, small lips, pale face
A harmless thing never bothered me so much

She is so . . . empty
She lives through another, who has no life either
Two empty lives do not equal one full
She has no friends, though she counts me as such
Her fairytale is almost through
She wasted the years of finding something
And ended with nothing

She is so . . . loud
And bright, unlike me
Her words make you cringe but she cares
She takes me away from comfort
To a place I've always wanted to be
She's easy to charm, so easy to annoy
It depends on the day

I am so . . . lost
I am waiting for life
This is not where it ends, I know
The beginning is soon --
Almost there, I think
At least I learned to love
I am going to the other side, stay here and watch