Is this my reality,
Is this what's meant to be.
Will happiness be something,
That I will one day succeed.
My hearts become a rose thorn,
Cold and made of stone.
Stuck in an empty room,
Constantly alone.
The days are getting longer,
The nights are getting old.
I've been wide awake at night,
Staring at my ceiling.
A continuous mournful face,
This is a peculiar feeling.
