This open book without an ending
Is everything my life reminds of.
You, shallow souls, were just pretending -
You're out of touch, I'm out of mind now.
I was a slave of my devotion,
A pillow for your worthless tears,
And you just played with my emotions,
Then in a moment disappeared.
I gave you all my heart to treasure -
You marked it with your footprints, dirty.
But it's your loss that can't be measured,
And nevermore your lies will hurt me!
The novel is waiting for your ending,
Fresh rumors - what is more exciting?
I'll laugh at you and keep pretending
I can't make out your handwriting.
