There comes a time where a stranger becomes something more,
where talking to them because something more important. they become a friend,
someone to reconsile in, to talk to, to be judged and loved by, even if you've never met them.

But what about a misunderstanding?
what if the words they speak to you make you flutter with excitment,
and smile with unprecidented happiness,
but underneath it all a much bigger picture is being formed by them.
What if the heart of this stranger seeps and slides into the very words they say,
and slowly leak into your hands.
Such a responsibility is rarely asked for,
but before you know it the stranger has given his heart and soul to you,
however you don't realise it.

So life will continue to run as what appears as normal,
but really the whole situation just remains a mess of misunderstanding and misinterpretation.
But now the stranger realises, now they see, the truth is what he loves is unbeknowest of his intentions,
and now the object of his affection lay with the heart rested on the shelf,
collecting dust, while another more obvious soul reaches out and sways her from him,
and all he can do is look on in dispear.
He is trapped in a cage, built by himself,
of loving her and being unable to free himself to tell her,
for she now has found another.

So he sits, alone in his room, not sad but souless. i am that man, i lay here alone,
all because i just wasnt understood, and you my angel are the innocent,
you my sweet have another, and i guess really its my fault for doing anything,
and now its my turn to feel the harsh blow of the sharp, knife like wind once again.

Written from someone special.

Charlotte Nilssons senaste upplagda bilder..