Perfect Strangers

Who is this person, who I’ve never seen Yet all I can see in front of me So far away, yet within reach A fragment of my memories, although false Lingering, waiting to be found Like a Beatle once sang, “Is this real life, or is this just fantasy?” Like sunlight poking through on a cloudy day, What is this feeling, That makes me want to leave my inhibitions at the door? What is this anxious nervous feeling? My train of thought is tangled with confusion This kind of thing is a first for me, Could this be a fever and I’m sick? Should I have raised my hand, Afraid yet full of dreams, Or held my voice and have been none the wiser? Is the universe conspiring against me, Or am I my own worst enemy? Have I taken a page out of Brutus’ book? To have stabbed myself? Felt it time and time again, Why do I self destruct? What is this feeling in my heart? Have I got my heart broken? Or had it always been broken? And you had mended it? Was I too ignorant to realise, This Knight in shining armour, Instead of showing my gratitude, Asked them, “Where is my maiden?” Then it hits me When I was in the blue When it was hard for me to move, You gave me that push When I had given up, You lifted me up To the one who gave me more than I could’ve asked, I was slow to realise, but now I have, And for that reason, let us remain Perfect Strangers