As the waves keep crashing on the shores everyday,
And the church bell keeps ringing every morning of every Sunday-
The clock and all its ticking that always gives me hope,
To never let go and to hold tight on my painful rope.
He gave me a typhoon when I asked for a cloudy weather,
He kissed me with his thorns when I wanted a beautiful flower-
He offered me the dark when I was craving to see the light,
He sang me his painful songs to almost every night.
He sees me as the dark clouds to his everyday living,
He shouts out for pain when it’s my heart to him I’m giving-
He treats me like the thunder to all the storms he is,
But in him it never occurred, that in my strength, he was my weakness.
He was the cloudy weather to my very strong typhoon,
And if I was the stars, then he would be my moon-
If I was his thorn, then he would be my beautiful flower,
And in all my weaknesses, he was my ultimate power.
He was the only white in all of my blacks,
And he was the only gem to all my ugly rocks-
He was my only dove in the many flock of birds,
And if it’s for him, then I would lay my cards.
But the rope that I held was slowly gripping,
And in my hands were blood that are fastly dropping-
I cried for the pain and I couldn’t anymore cope,
Until I decided to let go of him, my painful rope.