Something about your manners Surprises me every day, but no Things are not the same in our lives here lies a doleful soul could it be a refusal? Or just a way you just found to be mean Such a narrow allegiance to such a weak happiness Carry me in this chamber Lie...you might find me so lost But it's just me: a light that can't be seen You might find me pathetic Omniscient in my grave Something about your scars Makes me laugh and wonder why Would you be open-minded enough To fail in your trail Doomed in the stanzas (that the poet has made) Painted in the canvas (a forlorn self-portrait) It made me like this...you failed before me