Love is pain,

Love is suffering.

Why didn’t someone tell me it’s all suffering,

All thorns, no roses?

How do I love someone who doesn’t love me back?

How do I dream of someone who doesn’t even know I exist?

Why did I fall for this fate?

Oh Lord, it’s me, your child,

The one who came to you with a smile on their face.

Thank you for the kind of love you brought into my life.

Why didn’t you warn me before?

Why didn’t you show me the truth back then?

You’re my best friend, right?

My forever lover, right?

Why did you wait for me to come this far?

Is he my karma?

If it’s him, then it’s a win; you’ve worn karma!

But I never lied about loving someone;

I loved for real, and I left when I fell out.

Why did I come to this point?

How did I allow this to happen?

Why, why, why?

Was I used for pleasure?

Is this the truth I’ve been ignoring?

Did that humble and caring man use me?

When he said he missed me that day, was it all fake?

When you said I look cute, was it fake?

When you said you’ll keep me, was that fake as well?

Why did you act like you cared when it was all fake?

I love you, yes, I love you, man,

But this love is turning into hatred.

I’m hating myself, along with you;

I’m hating the soul that ain’t selfish enough to accept you.

I’m hating the mind that always thinks of you.

Lastly, I’m hating my heart,

The only source of breath,

The only part that gives life to my body,

The part that chose you and loves you.

I’m hating myself, along with you.

I don’t know how I’ll hate you, though;

You’re too good to be hated.

You deserve all the love, not hatred.

Why are you doing this to me?

Why, why, why?

I thought I would be patient;

Everything will be okay.

But with every hope and faith,

It’s a torture to myself.

Why didn’t you tell me you have someone?

I knew I was falling, and you treated me like the only one.

Why didn’t you tell me about your queen?

I would’ve left, considering it a mistake.

I would’ve gone far, but you were in touch and acted like there would be more.

Now I hate you, man, along with myself.

You make a fool out of me, don’t you?

You think I’m mad when I entertain you, right?

When I text and leave me on read, but still, I text again.

You think I’m desperate, right?

But not at all; I was in love; I was deeply in love.