I don’t understand you, just speak to me
You tell me that it’s over; it’s so painstaking and heartbreaking
That we just have to cry together, at night, huddled,
Crying for us, ourselves, the people around us, everyone we meet and who we will meet in the future.

We shed silent prayers to die in silence, and agreed never to talk again.
Even our mouths are in a tight knit lock.
Our hearts we wear on our sleeves, just believe;
Just have enough faith for the two of us, so I can have enough time to write something meaningful.

Its cliché and overused and old and beautiful
But it’s me, my sloppy handwriting sketching words for you to read,
To generate, to pest, to eat, to love
We’ve got nothing but our friends, our families, our enemies, out lovers, and I’m still uninspired.

So maybe you could keep me on my feet, and I will write nice and raw, because that’s the best I can do.