Sweet little thing, precious as a dove
One look at her, and you believed in the Gods above
She smiled not with her lips, but with her soul
Sparkly and gleaming, lighting up dark nights.
But her eyes, something hid in them, somewhere deep inside
They looked like they were tired, like a part of her, had died.
I wondered who hurt her fragile, beautiful heart
Who could have torn her trust apart?
She whispered in a hushed tone, “It was probably my fault”
Every inch of my body and soul, say no in revolt
I think to myself –
You with your kind words and trusting soul can never hurt a fly
This is where your problem lies.
You give them the power, to decide how you feel
When all they do, is take away your joy and zeal.
One of these days, just say it out loud, and you will be born anew
“It wasn’t me afterall. It was you”