the broken ones

we love them
we love to think
we will fix them
make them 'appy
no matter the cost.

reality, though, encounter our hopes
and not in a good way

the men
who are bad to us
are bad to us
and that's it

we can try to grasp it
travel a zillion miles
to comprehend it
but- in the end
they do choose their ways
same way we do ours

and they are the ones
to feel sorry for
at the end of the day

we are the ones
who chose to love them
and only because our little flaws
(simple as that)

i know, i guess
i shared me with many
and there were only two
whose shoulders I chose
to cry upon

one, a good one
who turned out to be bad
the other, a bad one
who just turned in.