At times, i can be so hopelessly in love.

At times i hate myself for not being able to say the right words at the right time.

At times i cant help to dream.

I realised im an ugly player in this game of love.

But i dunno how to make it right sometimes.

It gets so dark sometimes that it feels cold.

The answers are in me but i cant seem to find them.

Why?

Help wasnt an option once,

but now its all i must ever depend on.

I am myself, but i cant feel me.

This emptiness that can only be filled in by you,

and this abscence is deafening.

Tho my dreams may not be ideal to you,

know that the man in the dreams would always come back home,

Home to the woman he loves.

The woman he loves.

you.