Holding on,
holding on to a heart that wants to leave,
holding on to one sided feelings,
holding on with great belief,
holding on,
holding on,
knowing that the love that you feel is not reciprocated,
and holding on to love that is instead of joy,
bringing far too much misery,
yes, holding on,
holding on to what you want,
but not holding on to what is the reality
the reality of an empty love,
and how great is the decimation upon the heart,
and how great is the savagery of people,
people who keep you held in suspense,
until they can find something better elsewhere,
oh, the reality of an empty love,
the pointless empty love,
of which you hold onto for far too long,
and in which you wallow,
and in which misery does continue to breed,
continue to breed so needlessly,
a love that you cannot bear to let go of,
a love that eats you up,
and spits you out and that numbs you,
and that leaves you continually on the edge,
and that pains you mercilessly,
yes, a hollow empty love, a love not worth a thing,
oh, how you wish you could let it go,
how you wish,
but you cannot seem so often to find the strength to do it,
and it lingers on,
and it haunts you and it brings such great suffering,
oh, unrequited love,
born of a love that used to mean something,
that used to truly mean something,
an unrequited love squashed and squeezed and bled dry,
oh, how you wish it would be reciprocated again,
but how easy it is to continually delude yourself,
and how easy it is to love someone,
someone who's love of you no longer exists,
and whose love for you,
does not anymore to them mean a thing,
but to you it means everything,
and it is a tragic and a heart-breaking shame.
