February 4, 2010
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I've made four hundred-fifty-seven,
Of my supposed one thousand paper cranes,
I get a wish when I'm done...
And I've started to give up,
Considering the fact that every few moments,
I realize that my wish makes me or you sad...
(I want to wish you will,
Be happy with me forever,
But my heart just tries to tell me,
That it's pointless to wish,
For something that won't come true...)

My heart keeps getting angry at me,
As I stare at my walls,
Thinking of a wish related to you,
Maybe I should wish for threemilliononehundredthousand Iloveyou’s...
Or maybe I should wish for you to be loyal to me forever...
And no one else...
(Why is it that every time,
I think of you with him,
My heart comes a little bit closer,
To shattering completely...)

The definition of suicide,
Is to cause your own life to end,
With no help from another...
But what if my life is you,
And your love is you...
And you keep giving more to him...
(Would it be suicide or homicide,
The love thrown around this way,
Am I staying and killing it,
Or are you taking it slowly away...?)

I think I know a name for it though,
This thing that is occurring,
Though I don't think it is me,
Because I know you love me,
At least more than him,
But I still find myself crying,
Because you love him too,
(Your heart is beating that song,
That is supposed to be for me,
But you are trying to share it with him...)

You are doing what no one should,
You are doing worse than suicide,
You are doing worse than homicide,
You are doing worse than murder...
You are being my Romanticide lover...
Committing suicide one kiss at a time,
And one smile at a time,
As he says that he loves you... as a friend...
(I love you more than him,
I need you more than him,
Please admit you're meant for me,
And only me...
Because you are committing Romanticide,
With every beat of your shattered heart...)

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