Todo por la cara bonita
It may seem like a waste, squandered time by me,
Just a mere distraction, to make time obsolete.
Yet I don't regret, in fact, I do give thanks,
And wish that this time would last, and not drift me to its banks.
I knew to remain guarded, to not give in too deeply,
To tread with caution, for we wound far too easily.
But my imbecile heart, a'frolic it did went,
And the only prize earned was the sting of lament.
Ripped, torn, and shattered, it returned to my arms,
Blaming only but himself, yet not meaning any harm.
Though I must admit, in those moments, I was overjoyed,
And for an instant, hope was once again employed.
But nothing is eternal, all good things come to pass,
And that high of glee, died quickly, and scattered like ash amongst the grass.
And so once again, I return to where I belong,
Nestled in the sidelines, 'til that being comes, and by their side I go along.
