É muito, me sinto um camaleão infiltrado pq só tem gente de 56 anos aqui

If I can't hear the
sound of your heartbeat
What do you call love in your reality?
And in your reality, if I
don't know how to love you

I'll leave you be

Does my pen only write bitter words
for those who are dear to me?
Is it love if I take you, or
is it love if I set you free?
The ink flows down into a dark puddle
How can I write love into reality?

Have I found everybody a
fun assignment to do today?
When you're here, everything that
we do is fun for them anyway
When I can't even read my own feelings
What good are words when
a smile says it all?
And if this world won't
write me an ending
What will it take just
for me to have it all?