You were just a little less than what I need,
You’re always checking to make sure you still bleed.
A fashionable obsession with manic-depression,
You’re a semi-suicidal cry for help.
I can only give you all I have,
In return you give me all your pain,
If I come back for more does that make me insane?
It’s just a crazy little thing called love.
You’re always taking me to the edge,
Staring into the brink,
Then you push me too far,
I’m not sure what to think.
Am I dragging you down or helping you up,
It’s hard to tell who’s killing who, when we’re both falling so fast
You know it never was meant to last.
A less than lovely romantic comedy of errors,
A less than perfect habit you can’t break,
A less than subtle source of sadness,
A less than happy home.
It’s all a wild rush of terrors,
It’s all a little more than I can take,
It’s all no good, but full of badness,
You’ll never be my happy home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.