My brain is screaming, “Get a grip!
Look around—this isn’t it.
These pretty girls, they shine like stars,
why would he ever pick your scars”
But my foolish heart just flutters by,
chasing dreams and fairytale lies

And honestly for the most part
my heart is a guarded and apathetic place
But you tear those walls down with just you’re face
And you’re smile, and your words;
the way to care about others drives me wild, it’s absurd

My hands are no better either, they also betray me,
cause now I’m writing bouts of poetry
About someone who doesn’t know me

My logic fights it, kicks and claws,
Points out my flaws, my fatal cause—
But my heart is stubborn, blind and bold,
Still hoping there’s warmth in a world so cold.

And I swore I’d never be this cliché—
Scribbling lines like some lovesick play
But here I am, a walking trope,
Hanging on every glance, every joke.
You laugh and I swear the sky shifts hue,
Like the sun itself is smiling too.

I wonder if you’d ever know that my thoughts are wild,
That behind each calm face is the mind of a child
Fumbling, hoping, unsure and torn—
Is this love, or just a fire I’ve sworn to mourn?

I know the ending’s already written,
A fragile heart, forever smitten.
So I’ll tuck away this foolish part of me,
This sweet, impossible fantasy.