The mystery to your soul
and the key to my endeavor,
All add up to one counterfeit promise.
I lie to myself, and I try, with all my might,
To swallow what is left of my pride.
Which is it that keeps me going?
My false sense of superiority,
or the hope that you, of all people
Will notice what I hold inside of me.
I pray you will acknowledge my vibrant soul.
I wrap my porcelain heart in cellophane
for the fear that it will be broken.
I am, however, particularly familiar with
the grim face of disappointment.
Therefore, I am able to appreciate things when I have them.
Truth be told, I am lusting for a prominent figure.
But this is not why I want such a thing.
I see a truth in you, a purity like no other.
You keep my face to the sunshine and therefore make
it impossible for me to see the shadows.
Yet at the same time,
I am still able to see the storm heading in my
direction. Somehow, you make me care not for this
temporary squall. You give me hope for mankind; you
cease to be like no other.
Through in time, I pray, with all my heart,
That you will open up to me completely.
Let me see the deepest part of your soul,
and allow me to touch your heart. While doing so,
I hope to leave my fingerprints behind
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