A letter specifically to you, although, technically, that means you.
Which means it's not specific.
Unless, of course, you think you're the specified,
Which you can't be.
Because this letter is to no one
But me.
A letter specifically to me.
The specified.

So, I take it into account that I'm a petty mess.
Tied in knots and forced into the situations
like looking for a party dress.
I can't decide what to do about you or you or you.
Don't get me wrong, I won't decide.
I'll let the times come along like the tide.
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Back and forth,
Until I go insane,
And pray for a storm to shake the waves
And move along my merry way.

But it won't be so merry, you see
Because I am me.
And being me, I'm not satisfied
Even though I think I am.
Guilt trips me, kicks me, and eventually
beats me.
Don't take this letter into account good madams and sirs,
Just tie me up with crimson ribbons and feed me lollipops-
I'd like to rule the world.