He is one of the stronger ones.
I am weak aside form my intellect.
He stands himself high above me.
I am his stool to rest his feet upon.
He is everything that my parents wanted.
I am a dread, and nothing more.
He is beauty in the eyes of strangers.
I am the common in the others' eyes.
He has broad shoulders, he stand up tall.
I am disfigured. I trip and fall.

He could NEVER see me how I see him,
even though I'm not sure myself who it is you really are.
So does this mean he knows me?
He could NEVER hold me the way I hold him,
even though it's been awhile...
yet it takes two to hold.
He could NEVER feel how I feel for him...NEVER.

Yet I see another side
to this torment called "reality"
that aside from him...
people favor me for:

I am high.
He is low.
I am fast.
He is slow.
He doesn't know what reality it,
when I'm living every second of it.
He doesn't knwo when to quit
because his thoughts are always somehow lead astray.

And between everyone else...

I am loved...
HE is hated.
I'M alive
while HE'S sedated...
And for everytime he turns around,
another girl is hurt.

He could NEVER see what I see...
EVEN if he tried...
 
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