It’s okay if at the end of the day,

you’re by yourself,

standing alone down the hall,

with no one at your side.

 

I’m telling you,

it’s okay,

if at the end of the night,

you’re swaying by the curb,

with your heels in your hands,

your last penny spent.

 

It’s okay,

if at the end of the year,

you’re stunned silent by the,

sheer amount of nothing,

you’ve done,

with nothing you can do.

 

Do you know why?

Why,

it’s completely,

totally,

okay?

 

That you’re stuck,

lonely,

desperate,

hollow?

 

That’s because,

no matter what other people,

say about you,

you’re my kind of

Perfect.