I hate to love,when they don’t,

I hate to beg,when they don’t,

I hate to be played,

I hate to be used.

The problem with y’all,you except more of

Whose that person is,you always except blossoms in them,

I even wonder that I wa correct calling you brothers,

You don’t know how I feel,my emotions ain’t your producer’s,

But I’m the producer of my happiness,

I’m the producer of my joyfulness.

I hate saying,in public and in my inside heart,

There’s a part of you in my heart,

Saying at least now I see the way

In you,I see it everyday,

I hate saying that while you don’t consider me!

I have been broken enough,

I have been torn apart enough,

I have been scattered enough,

In y’all I saw a light

That shone bright,

And gave me warmth and comfort.

So I’m asking myself,can I keep on trusting y’all?

I don’t want my trust,to be shattered,

As a trust that been betrayed.