The Hidden Plea

To never see eyes latching back to your own;
To be so apart; to be so alone.
To compose in your heart; to put on a show;
To be so conductively monotone.

To suit on the armor that kept you intact;
To divide your bitter self in half.
To pretend you're arriving; while you're already gone;
To smear the day in a piano's song.

To hope on tomorrow; to long on today;
To put on a glossy charade.
To always have loved and it never returned;
To let this fire continue to burn.

To never look past what has already changed;
To glory to glory in the sunshine and rain.
To wait for an answer; a glory's descend;
To hope for never being the same again.