This isn't the beginning:
I spend my time...
is the beggining of a false statement
The wasteing of it ...
the end of your confession.
This is the poem 'below' :
Over everyone and everything,
I have always chosen you,
Even when they say that your bad for me,
Under these closed eyelids,
I know that the're right
But its only a thought when you're out of sight,
I know and I try to convince myself its not true,
But how would they know anything about 'you'
I feel the fear that they do, when they look in my eyes,
you leave scars that are invisible to the people outside,
Maybe they see it, but its never been mentioned,
So I keep on going without the attention,
It hard to let go, I know this is wrong,
But the way that I feel, When I am 'on'.
