Was it really my fault to think of you as an angel? Or as a princess to be more precise? Or was it yours, of not being an angel or a princess. You were just as weak, meek and normal as others. You remained what you originally were; a simple, naive, girl next door.
Was it my fault that I needed an angel to make better of my lonely life? Or was it that I took pride in calling you a princess and holding you in a higher esteem that you graciously accepted but could not let that seep into you?
Or did it really seep so deep that you preferred a saviour prince riding on a glittering horse over a simple, naive, guy next door? If at all there was a fault, whose it was?
17 April 14