I looked at the flowers you gave to me today.
All sad and withering away.
And I thought about you in a way.
That I knew how those flowers felt.
And I know that it doesn't matter.
And I know you don't care.
And I know that I can't change the past.
But I wouldn't want to.
So this is my heartache.
And this is my heartbreak.
And it's sad to know
How those flowers feel.((Just felt like I should put this somewhere, and I thought this might be a good place.))