I don’t relate to girls my age
They’re all about dresses and boyfriends
And then here I am
Black jeans, black top and solo
Another thing I do not know
The need to have or want a boyfriend
It’s a mystery to me
Me - a seventeen year old girl
It doesn’t make sense
They let themselves go
They become one with their loves
Just because of a “feeling”
A feeling that they call “love”
They think they’ve found “the one”
But there is no such thing
Sure, they might think they’re perfect
But there will always be someone better
And where does that end up
Sadness and depression
Result of unfaithfulness
The rise and fall of love
And what is the point
It may feel good for a while
But they must come to terms
That everything on Earth has an end
And that is pure logic
Those “butterflies” or “love” they feel
Nothing but adrenaline and the mind
Working together to form a stunning illusion
That’s how I think
That’s how I perceive “love”