I Love to Hate the Rain

Sometimes it's better not knowing. Hey the grass is always greener. Some things just aren't worth showing. Not when you've got an ambiguous demeanor. I thought: A confirmation will be nice. Now I think: Uncertainty would suffice. It's unhealthy how I think so much. But I could be a stone. Sometimes that option seems far better than a mangled heart that needs to be sewn. I'm a masochist when it comes to love. I swim in the blood from my dripping heart. But I never say things I don't mean and I won't ever start. Ironically I enjoy this. At least a little bit. It's like a puzzle piece, a muse in a shadow where nothing else fits. I thought: This will cause me pain. Now I think: I love to hate the rain.