It's cruel... ...but he's got a good hold on me.  He's
aesthetically confused, with an abnormal state of mind. He's
never been outside his box of diseased paranoia. But does he
want to escape?  He's hopeless.  Although he's dumb when it
comes to thought and he's a disaster beyond imagine, h e s t i l
l m a k e s m e m e l t .  Taking captive of my hopeless heart,
having no choice but to give in; But can the human heart realize
ones faults? Can it love beyond them?  You'd never think twice
for sarcraficing such a thing for such a personlike him; You'd
never think once for hurting yourself for such a person like
him, so why am I?  What happens to a heart that's still
hopelessly caressed? Do the butterflies inside it flutter so
much they implode? Does it still wrench to the thought of
impossibility to help? Does it love thou even for it's mistakes?
...or does it explode?