I looked at you and carefully expressed my love. You smiled at me and held my hand.
I thought I had grasped happiness, but I only got bruises all over my body.
The person who was always chasing me reached out to me and said, "I want to be with you."
The person I hate the most has become my life-saving straw.
I held on tightly, but became increasingly unable to deceive my heart.
Why should I be with you like this?