A/N: Just felt like a bit of angsty poetry tonight. I'll let you judge how
well I managed it.
This is Zell's POV on Rinoa. Just outta curiosity, was I the only one who
thought Zell had a crush on Rinoa in the game? Anyway, here it is.
Disclaimer: I don't own FF8 or anything to do with it.
Why
I see how you look at me,
And I see how you look at him.
Never was I the one for you,
Only the friend on the sidelines.
Everything I had I gave,
My time, my support, my heart,
Yet it wasn't enough.
It was him you gazed at longingly,
Even when he ignored you,
Treated you like dirt,
Didn't give a damn about anything.
It was him you thought of,
His scarred face you saw in your dreams,
His Gunblade you saw protecting you,
His arms you wanted around you.
I stood by, helping you,
Wanting your happiness,
Trying to make him see,
When all I could think of
Was your voice, your hair, your lips.
Now I watch as the two of you hold hands,
As you dance together,
As you kiss.
And I wonder why. . .
Why I love someone who can't return it,
Why you couldn't think of me like that,
Why he receives your affections.
Why it's not me.
Why I'm 'just a friend'.
Why. . .
Disclaimer: I don't own FF8 or anything to do with it.
Why
I see how you look at me,
And I see how you look at him.
Never was I the one for you,
Only the friend on the sidelines.
Everything I had I gave,
My time, my support, my heart,
Yet it wasn't enough.
It was him you gazed at longingly,
Even when he ignored you,
Treated you like dirt,
Didn't give a damn about anything.
It was him you thought of,
His scarred face you saw in your dreams,
His Gunblade you saw protecting you,
His arms you wanted around you.
I stood by, helping you,
Wanting your happiness,
Trying to make him see,
When all I could think of
Was your voice, your hair, your lips.
Now I watch as the two of you hold hands,
As you dance together,
As you kiss.
And I wonder why. . .
Why I love someone who can't return it,
Why you couldn't think of me like that,
Why he receives your affections.
Why it's not me.
Why I'm 'just a friend'.
Why. . .
