Bring me out of hell with you

Laying together, laying on that small couch,
I played that game while you held me.
How was I to know the lonliness you felt?
Years later I know, I feel like you did.
But you've moved on, it's gone.

That hell of being alone, depised, feared, hated,
I have it now, not you.
You moved on, and I caught it.
I want to be held once more as I play that game again,
just so I don't feel so lonely.

You said I am beautiful many times.
But why am I still so alone?
Why is this my fate?
Is it just a part of life?
A part of being a teenager?

You just had to move on,
right when I caught the sickness.