A criss cross,
forever remembering and always forgetting what we loss,
a forever skating of our lives,
a distant memory of a lie,
the strings that twist our lives and hearts,
we look back to the pages that are blanked,
we look back with a panic,
and people call us manic,
"just move on" they say with a sly tone,
but they don't realize,
is we want them to answer their ******* phone,
I'll flip the pages to read tomorrow,
because I pray there is less sorrow