As I sit here on my bed.
Surronded by my things.
I sit and remember.
The reasons behind the scars on my heart.
I do not cry two tears over them.
But just a lone tear.
A tear thats lonely just like me.
Sure i have a man, but what's a man who rarely ever see's the real me?
The real me who loves to dance and sing, or write about stuff i dont know.