What is this thing called love? (Dancing knives or fallen lives)

With a thousand things left unsaid

theres a part of me that wants this to end

but as long as my blood is pumping red

I'll want to be more than a friend

I realize the pointlessness of this,

the pain I am impozing,

but you can sense the helplessness of me

screams awaken me from my dozing.

I'm screaming in my own ears

crying, trembling from my own fears

I want to forget, but never in a million years

could I forget you, and all the tears.

Theres one thing that can save me now

but it's not something I can earn

I have hope it could still happen somehow

I'm sure theres a lesson I'm to learn

My life, our lives, ever confusing

a dance of knives, ever amusing

is that a sense humor that I'm using

or a cry for help that I'm abusing?

There'll always be some things left unsaid

as long as our blood is pumping red

I'll always to be more than a friend,

because I lied, I dont want this to end.  

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