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You’re not making me unsure about me
you’re making me angry, at you
cause I love who I am and how I look
I used to blame myself
but now all I only do for doubting me
is doubting you.

L.C.
If your care for me depends on your own interests of subject and time, I think it's called control instead.

L.C.
She's a pure hearted girl
with the happiest soul
She talks to the moon
listens to the trees
speaks with the animals
and compliments the flowers

Yet, often she feels sad
because she loves too much
and thinks too deep
Her nights are sometimes dark
But every time
she pulls herself back together
and decides
that her personality
is too positive
to be so negative.

L.C.
Isn’t it a strange concept
we hold on to someone
we fell for
We blindly fight
even if it doesn’t feel right
We lose ourselves
we feel sad
Happiness suffers
but we hold on
Love’s something mad.

L.C.

— The End —