He thinks that everything that blooms and flourishes is only born to wither before it perishes
Happiness to him is like a candle that's run out of wax and can no longer be lit
I try to lift him from his pain, but I carry him away in vain
Everytime I think I'm holding him high enough above his fears and insecurities
He's distanced himself and disappeared once more
He's a rose that's grown from sand
He only sees himself as a freak and an anomaly
People around him tell him he's a burden
That he is useless and insignificant
They take advantage of his kindness
He wants to disappear rather than be a disappointment
I feel like I'm always fighting to hold him above the river of Styx full of souls with their reaching arms desperate to drown him
If my love isn't enough to save him
I hope someone with stronger arms will come along and pull him from the current and onto land at last
