The smell of fake perfume,
Burning in my lungs.
Tomorrow I resume
To fighting with my tongue.
How come I never rest,
From life's simple tragedies?
I'm always put to test,
Never able to even shed a tear.
When tears dry up, tomorrow comes,
But for now I'm stuck with none.
No scent, no taste, no touch, no feel,
Nothing that can make me real.
I am real, but to only one,
Who claims I'm the moon to his sun.
I am but a spark of light,
Who fails to do anything right.
