I'm frozen here
with my hands in the air.
The gun to my back
is not having you here.
I'm still learning to love,
but haven't been taught.
Still learning to chase,
but haven't been caught.
Now I plead
that you would just shoot.
Love's more than the pain
of me being shot.
You're all that I need,
but I bleed in the thought
that all I'm trying to buy
can never be bought.
The firing gun
is when I'm tired and done.
I'm just trying so hard
to be someone.
I'm dying so hard,
but know that I fought.
I was just trying so hard
to be someone I'm not.
I've finally learned -
I'm finally taught,
as I die on the ground
of having you not.
I'm sad in the pain,
but glad in the thought
that nothing's in vane
and I'm finally caught.