Tears.

I won't forgive you. You make me cry, love, and if there's one thing I cannot forgive, it's a boy who makes me cry.

Hurts too much alone. I've been carving your name places it never should have gone. Skin isn't the same as stone, and I'm burning up inside. Please - don't leave me like this. It's one final kiss of desperation gone wrong, something you knew all along.

You scare me and I hate you every time I think I love you, I run through all the reason to be afraid of you. Ashamed of you. The way your touch makes me convulse like I'm dying inside, drying up inside.

But every time the phone rings, and every time a bird sings outside when it's nighttime, not bright-time... I lose a bit of fight, then, and it's not all right, then because I'm moving on faster than I think I should, and faster than I thought I could. It's what happens when fear gets in the way. At least I can breathe today.

Not like when I lost my mind inside the web of lies and crime; I don't do time that isn't on a clock of my devising. I'm advising you to back away before I make you pay for what you're doing, what you've done. It's not the end, you haven't won.

If I say I love you, it's not the lie but it's not truth. The youth is euphemism at its best and emptied streets are just the rest of what's been left behind for us. Maybe just you, and I'll go on, go home alone and cry quiet, the way I do when I think too hard of you.

Something in silence bring the tears on the heels of too-young fears. I sit in the dark and hold my own hand, just cry and cry and cry and -

You're the boy who made me cry. I won't forgive you, and I don't lie. I won't forget you, can't forgo the memory of what made this so. Say your farewells if they mean truth, and then let go promise of youth. Forgive the rage and leave the daze but heavy words have made this maze. Time doesn't mend a broken heart; just duct tapes pieces that fell apart.