all this hurt,and all this pain,

smashing through hearts like a free train,

its called love and it hurts,

but sometimes can be sweeter than any deserts,

as it can ruin you instandly or lift you imediatly,

but in my acount you sit their teadiusly,

mocking and insulting me,

but it is me who is finerly free, 

this, “us” was not ment to be,

i thank you for what we had,

and for now i will be sad,

for the loss is too bad,

but i know eventulaly we will both be glad;

that this was never ment to be.