You were just another story I wrote
And as it wasn't meant to be brought
I erased it and threw the paper away
I did it for fear of what else would befall.
You thought yourself too good here
And wrote me well as a tiny spare
But here I yield the pen to my heart
And in every beat it unweaves your story away
(Oh behold you that passion rare!)
For you are not what you said you were
You could never be anything even close
And therefore I have been made to choose
I have better pursuits to follow true
I must leave you behind and set
Myself free because I care
Only, ONLY for me henceforth...