If this is all I can do,
Then I should take it to you,
As a clue for for me and you to follow,
Still unsure what to do with myself so hollow.

I'm so confused, I feel refused,
And accused of being the culprit.
I can't abuse, or suffuse,
This broken me I'm finding.

Coward? Idiot? I don't know.
Exactly what I am I can't discover,
And I'll never recover, or dissever,
My ties from this significant other.

I can't break this curse of stupidity,
This soul, bravery of fluidity,
Dripping away from me as moments broadcasting;
Never everlasting; my appearance contrasting.

Despite slight tolerance, severance has occurred,
And obscured my torn soul, my unclear architecture.
So despite the impression, give some digression,
And find reality's me, and my so clear recession.

I dedicate this writing, to the one called we,
Just so we can see, our reality we're facing,
Our confusion fast pacing; but together we can lace,
And trace our new future, if even new at all.

Maybe it'll be the same future it has always been,
Because what's yet to come may never be discovered,
So if thought about it right, all can be all right,
And we never will have to change, never recovered.

We can't rearrange our future, or rearrange us,
Only because of that force, that invisible source,
That we call our love, that admiration that floats above,
A disasterful, irreparable and regrettable course.

I dedicate this writing, to the one called we,
Because hopefully you'll see, the meaning behind me.
If you look close into my eyes, the meaning becomes true,
Because if you look close into my eyes, what is seen is you.