I'm left with faded memories of death.
Crumpled tissues.
Wilted flowers.
Jewelry that actually means
Something special,
Despite the 25 cent cover charge.
Our house filled with chocolate
And helping hands.
But where's my support line?
Does anyone know how i FEEL?
And no matter how hard I tried,
This is life, this is real.
Smile.
Smile now.
Don't let them see your weaknesses.
Greet these people.
Greet the strangers.
They are here for you and i.
This is our support line,
So jump in the back, and walk for an hour
To shake my hand.
Because the firm grip and watery eyes
Make my problem seem smaller?
No. You have no empathy for me.
And you shall not receive any just the same.
And we stayed on the support line
Until no one else remained
Cept for the open casket and a death artist.
The only thought I'm left with
Is the anger that I cannot remember
The sound of your voice.
The comfort.
The compliments that
I heard through the grapevine.
Well that was seven years ago.
And you thought I was grown.
How I ache for you to be here.
How I ache for taking you for granted.
God, please make these memories stay forever.
Obviously he couldn't. |
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