I always let it get to me,
Crawling under my skin,
Until its ontop of the surface.
I used to always find comfort in the thoughts,
The thoughts of not acceptance, but belonging.
I used to always charish what I had,
My nestalgia was my failing.
I still just want my city back,
Back the way it used to be. *
I used to look for her, everywhere I went there she was.
A linger on my mind and lips,
This girl I have yet to meet.
I blame those classic songs for installing this in me,
This perfect image, of a perfect girl, perfectly imperfect
And entirely amazing for embracing that simple fact that no other girl can.
I am tired of looking.