What do you see in me?
For as many times I tried, I only can see it as empty.
What could you possibly love?
Can you show me, how do I fit you like a glove?
What do you find in this broken piece of junk?
For I am nothing more than just a punk.
My self was scattered, form into chunk.
My self was one of those toxic things.
Hard to get, can't be kept, and never for strings.
I never wanted any rings.
Only to trust you to never stings.
I can't see,
So, help me find my soul that's lost at sea.
And my hope that's as small as pea.
Brings me for tea.
Calm the frayed nerves of my beauty.
Then, maybe,
Maybe,
I'll feel some glee.
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