Every Time

I am young, naive, sometimes too kind,
Many are cruel, manipulative, lay me no mind,
But every time, every time,
The get to me.

Am I that blind that I cannot see,
What they truly, truly want with me?

The cruel ones toy with my heart,
Slowly but steadily tearing me apart.
First they mess with my head, make me fall in love,
Then they mess with my heart, and then they shove,
Me away. Every time

Im that foolish, that naive?
That I cannot see,
That I am the reason I bleed.

Penned by my hand on the 2nd of Phaestian, in the year 835 AF.