Honey, a bandaid inst going to heal this pain, lets just say, her heart is a little past broken

Its when I'm too used to the lies, even the most true of truths seem the most fake.

I'd rather start something of nothing, than ignore the could-be nothing, that is the very something that would end it all.

Sometimes, I wish I could read your mind. Then I wonder, if I could handle the truth if I did.

I have so many questions
[ i'm just so scared of the answers ]
you're making me go c r a z y inside.

I write your name next to mine and realize I might as well be writing me suicide note ; you're bound to kill me inside.
They always do.

They ask me what makes him different. My only reply, is he's for real.

They ask me how I know its love. I tell them if I knew how to describe it, it wouldn't be love.

I would never ask you to love me, for the sake of my happiness. However, I could never ask you to leave me for the sake of yours.

I dare you to love me like you've never loved another. I guess that means, I dare you to love me, and I dare you to mean it.