Now, more than ever, I’m turning into a storybook
character.  
Because you take them and you hurt them,  
Give then anguish, grief and torment.
It should break them,
But they keep going on.

In real life, 
It hurts all the time.
In a story,
It’s a history.
Mysterious.
But in reality,
Every other song I hear makes me want to cry.
Thinking about how the trust that used to be there somehow
died.
How something I loved is now gone.  
Being forced to realize it was broken all along.

And the worst part is the ‘what comes after.’
In a story,
There’s an answer.
There’s an ending.
Resolution.  New beginning.
But in real life,
We just keep on living.

I’m their guardian angel.
I’ll protect them, watch over and love them.
Angels can’t cry.
They have to be strong.
But there’s no ending.
How can I when we all just live on?