melancholy,
Sadness is my new hobbie.
I don't sleep so well,
Not that you'd care.
And I'm not keeping so well,
I wish that you'd care.
I wonder could I still make you laugh,
If you were here.
For The smaller the pieces
Of a broken heart,
The easier to give away and share.
Til given away to anyone,
For a broken promise
of loveless romance,
With no second chance.
No future plans.
At this point I'd be happy just to hold hands.