They resent the feeling of loneliness.
The cold They can not stand.
It has to happen once in a while,
The bitter chill seems to always lend its bitter hand.
They call upon the past,
For it shall fix the future,
They pull out all the obstacles,
Leaving, nothing left.
'It has to do with everything.'
They all think inside their head,
'It has to do with what was believed,'
They think, knowing nothing more.
They blame it on others so the pain will go away,
but it builds up inside,
Having no where else to run and hide.
With each brick that is laid,
And each person that is pushed away,
They eventually build a wall around their hearts,
Not understanding what this can do,
This is where the smiles come in,
This is where the pretending begins.
Why it happens no one knows,
But they blame it on themselves in the end.
After all the pretending, boredom comes creeping.
Numbness does its effective seeping and all is lost.
There is nothing left...
and They end up like all the obstacles.
Leaving, nothing left.
