I could say that I was sorry

but that would, of course, be lying.

And you can give me your best speeches,

I'll give you credit for trying.

Please spare me your accusations,

I know that I'm to blame.

It's just that a dead end

is all that this became.

You were running from a void,

and to me you were of use.

I gave you an escape,

you gave me an excuse.

I'm sure you can't be hurt

by the object of your lust.

Mine still belongs

to the one I will never trust.

It's the ceaseless cycle

of hope, rejection and pain:

we give our lonely thoughts to them,

and unattainable they remain.

I've played your role in this scene

as long as I've been alive

It takes time to grow accustomed to,

but trust me, you'll survive.