A wishful pursuit of an infatuation in time

 

With the blessing of your fresh pair of eyes,

Ironic how it blinds my future, my sights.

Lost amidst the music that brings in the dreams,

During the night when the yearning begins.

 

Got no clue of what you really see,

On the verge of anxiety, you put me.

Over this thing that was never mine,

Sinful acts that would really make me cry.

Enter a name that fits in this line.

 

Clinging to that hope for a miracle,

Happy honestly with the way things are.

As I patiently wait for nothing again,

Someday who knows what will change.

Ending not as a wild goose chase.