Melted rose.

Well melted rose's make me wanna cry.
Your just burning away.
Sick and tired of the sleepless night's.
Thinking of me.
But I know your right.
You'll never feel right.
You'll always feel hate.
Love.
Pain.
Helpless.
Misunderstood.
Unknown.
But being 15 is just a number.
It wont hold you back, or hold you down.
You'll always have fire in your eye's.
That will burn away at your soul.
Melt your slowly beating heart.
Now no one can see you smiling.
Because they know its just as fake as you are.
Now.
Believe me I'm not perfect.
But I know you better then anyone in this world.
No matter how long.
How far you are.
I can read your mind, like I can read this stupid poem.
And you hate it.
It pulls away at your flesh and skin.
I can feel the burn from your hate.
But nothings ever simple again once you've known me.
I left so you couldn't leave me.
Well....
Melted rose's make me wanna cry.