I wake up to the pain of another day
Still no matter how much I try and think you away I can not stop must not stop. You are what you are and I made you that way. Each and every day I cry for the time I had you. Perfection never hurt so good and still I want to try and smooth the pain.
So what can I do
What can I say
Where can I run
How can I hide
No, there is not a single day that passes where you do not cloud my mind.
When my pen touches paper you are born, When my brush touches paint you are born.
In every word, every stroke, every thought and every sense you are born.
Just wish I could but I can not, must not let you fade.
By Jin Okubo