One person
The words spilled out like a guilty confession
Two
It seems that it's just an obsession
Three persons
I feel the inability of my discretion
Four*
It seems that non have full comprehension
But not five
Because the fifth pair of ears will be just the same
so here I am
With no air; A dying flame
Stop saying oh
Stop asking whats wrong
If you're not going to help me
fix it