He loves me, he loves me not.

You make me sad.
You make me cry.
Sometimes when I really listen
I catch you in a lie.

You make me hurt,
You make me bleed,
You give me bruises,
Even on my knees.

You say you love me,
but that’s the lie I often hear.
But if you really loved me
it’s you I wouldn’t fear.

Even though I know I shouldn’t,
the love I feel is strong.
However I’d be lying if I said,
loving you didn’t feel wrong.

I hate myself for loving you,
so much that I want to die.
I wish I didn’t feel this way,
but these feelings I can’t denie.

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