Last of August

I want to let you go. But each time I try, my heart is breaking into pieces.

Marry someone quickly. So I'd know that there's really no hope between you and I.

I know it's my greed. But I'm sorry. Seems like I cannot forget you even if you get married.

Do not think about me. I won't let you see me shed a tear. I wish I was born earlier.

If I was, will you look at me? If I was, will you love me? If I was, will you take me seriously?

You and I should have met sooner. I will always stare at you from afar, and hope that you're doing well.

I will bid my farewell. Because this is the last of August.