My mirror is broken, or at least it seems to be,
for today I discovered an old man staring back at me.
The face I recognized,
But he had hair of gray, and there were wrinkles around the eyes.
I waved. I rubbed the mirror with my sleeve.
No matter what I tried, he simply wouldn't leave.
This can't be me, I thought. I am much more svelte.
Just look at the way the belly hangs over his belt!
I also thought it was very queer.
The hair stopped growing atop his head and was growing out of each ear!
Who was this imposter, and what is he doing there,
this man of age with silver in his hair?
Why is my mirror doing this to me?
Having this old man staring back at me?
Pen and paper are my tools
To tell you "good job" or to call you a fool.
My prais
You are mine till the end.
I love you because you're my friend.
You were so kind
I have a feeling
That I can't comprehend
In my deepest thoughts, you are
After I knew the person you showed the world,
I searched for the person you are.
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?"
Are the words you'd hear Will Shakespeare say.<
I am fighting a battle of loneliness and disrespect
My pain with relations has reached it
It's that look in your eye.
It's the smile on your face
That makes time slip by,<
I don't have a controller,
And I don't have a screen,
I don't need to be plugged
I Will Always Be There For You
I will always be there for you,
I am your little friend.
I will always be in love
Listen to my heart as it screams your name.
Look into my eyes as you fix the pain.
<
