["It's hard when we can't decipher what's on somebody else's mind, and yet we're sure it's something about us. Happiness is too weak so it's got to be taken care of every day. This one describes a death of a love."]

Something about your manners
Surprises me every day, but no
Things are not the same in our lives
here lies a doleful soul

could it be a refusal?
Or just a way you just found to be mean
Such a narrow allegiance to such a weak happiness
Carry me in this chamber
Lie...you might find me so lost
But it's just me: a light that can't be seen
You might find me pathetic
Omniscient in my grave

Something about your scars
Makes me laugh and wonder why
Would you be open-minded enough
To fail in your trail

Doomed in the stanzas (that the poet has made)
Painted in the canvas (a forlorn self-portrait)
It made me like this...you failed before me

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