"Isn't it time?", a voice inside her head she heard
But there had been so many times, and words
meant leaving and leaving meant stay
and love meant hating and knowing the day
would finally come, like just any other
that the sun would rise and she'd leave her lover
But there isn't love and there isn't hate
and there wasn't friendship, it was all too late
Because somewhere between loving and hate
she finally admitted she never felt like.
Was it pride in proving she would never leave
that made her stay when voices believed,
through and through those wasteful days,
pretending to be to escape who she was
someone who didn't like you enough?
It is time she said. It is time, she knew.
She hung her head with one last tear.
It hit the floor and said goodbye to you.
Somewhere between love and hate
if you don't have like, then it was always too late
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