A chance

I prefer to give him a chance, 

Not to strike him out.
He was not the one because of whom,

I cry in and about.

Consequences must be faced by the real convict,

Not the one who tries to make me happy

To bring me out,

Of all the times I grieve and turn sappy.

It pains to give in at once ,

So easily without being skeptic.

Again, being dubious  may not cure me

Rather worsen my wounds to septic.

He might not be perfect,

Yet he manages to make me smile

To make me realize I’m special, he never

Fails to seize my attention in his own style.

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