I know I am being put through my personal hell,
but I'm treating her like she's my heaven.
I know my heaven is okay,
But I'd do anything for the dark to take me,
my mirrors to shake me.
I'm stuck wishing I could call you my angel.
I'm stuck wishing I could call you my doll,
But I'm stuck knowing we'd never be as perfect
as your porcelain skin.
I'm stuck knowing I'll never be as perfect as your
soft, blond hair.
I never knew my favorite color till I saw your eyes,
as blue as the sea and our desperation of different things.
I'm stuck wishing I could call you my angel,
but I know that death must capture me first.
I'm stuck knowing that it already has.
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