ipped in two my heart cries out loud,
"why are you doing this to me?" "oh god, I'm sorry," is my only reply.

I scribble down your name on this blank page that is no longer waiting for my ink
I slip into sleep and awake finding your name crossed out,
like it was never meant to be there in the first place
in my hand lies the pen, the weapon of choice
my pen is mightier than your heartbreaking voice
now I'll write I love you down the same number of times you said it to me
then I'll shove the hundreds of pages down your throat
so you can use them for the next fool
that comes around and thinks you're the world.