For four years,
I had been running in this marathon
of constant tears and fears
that you may forget me in a time of a yawn.

Happiness and hope,
so powerful yet so fragile;
I used to hold onto them as if they were a rope
that would lead me towards your smile.

Even the birds on they sky would mock me
for falling for a person so amiss.
They would sing on a tree,
"what a foolish girl she is!"

Little did I know
that I was overestimating myself all these years.
I should have known since our very first hello,
that feelings are not to be spared on you, let alone my tears.

Enveloped within my own naive wishful thinking,
hoping I could one day be the apple of your eye.
Only now am I realising
that I should have waved goodbye.

Now that I have come so far,
yet finally realising all these feelings and history
should be flicked away like the butt of a cigar,
'cause this ridiculous marathon has no champion?

as there is no finishing line.