Whatever did I do to you,
to make you feel like that?
Why do have to do
all the things you said?
Am I your friend or not,
or am I just a slave?
Will you be the only one,
mourning at my grave?
You're the only one I have,
you don't think so, but it's true!
But I can't force myself anymore,
even though I love you.
Don't you feel any guilt,
when you take the pleasure?
You compare us all the time,
but we're not to measure.
I envy you; you mean so much
You're lovely and so kind
But you seem to hate when I have fun
Tell me what's on your mind
All these questions are still here
wandering through these walls
But I need to stop thinking
I hear that someone calls...
You.
Stephanie Bakker ©