How many times can a heart break, Before it can't be put back together? They say love lifts you up high, Like you're floating in the clouds, But that just means the fall is greater. All these scripted lines that fall from my lips, You live and learn just to hope they forgive. Standing here giving my soliloquy, As the pen moves on the paper. Oh, what do they have in store for me? Whatever made me must be a poet, Giving me pain and challenges, In my life like Shakespeare wrote it. Not a divine comedy like I was hoping. Instead a tragedy that I'm quoting. Oh no, Is everyone else in on the dramatic irony, Do you know what's in store for me? All I hope is, That my life isn't, Like Shakespeare wrote it. Is there even a term for feeling like you're not the main character, Of your own life but instead moving through each day in a blur. Where was the exposition? Will the climax be worth it? Am I just the tragic character designed to short circuit? Oh no... My epilogue will be cut short, And give nothing good, that I'm sure. I'll only be remembered for my pain, And how I hoped for sunshine even in the rain. All because my life is like, Shakespeare wrote it. Whatever made me must be a poet, Giving me pain and challenges, In my life like Shakespeare wrote it. Not a divine comedy like I was hoping. Instead a tragedy that I'm quoting. Oh no, Is everyone else in on the dramatic irony, Do you know what's in store for me? All I hope is, That my life isn't, Like Shakespeare wrote it.
