Of all the liberties I have,
There's three I wanna add.
Want them binding, tied.

To look for you,
To look at other,
To look at the both of us.

To think of the riddle,
To think unhealthy,
To think dying?

To be sad.
To be mad.
To be afraid.

To Miss,
To Be Jealous,
To Worry.

Then we say the set-up works for us,
A system where we give more than we receive.
Made clear what that was,
Lying alone, they leave.
"We got what was wanted."
The 'only' thing that mattered.
But who are we fooling?
The feeling of being needed was no close to fleeting.
This is why I need you,
You and I.
Your scent shall shall stay, too.
Forgetting, I will try.

To some degree, we all feel the same.
Lost, lured, left, (likely) loved.
Dressed differently, curious characters,
In a not-so-new narrative written right before beacons blossomed as boon and/or bane.
Arriving to an understanding that no one's special, the nothingness isn't new, the emptiness is an ecstasy of the endless wormhole where we are winded.
It is all familiar -- the fun, famine, fickleness, fixated on a point of pieces of peace, serene sensations of vivid voids.
We're uncertain if we're guilty of feeling nothing.
We're just here.
Saving and saved.
Listening and listened to.
Cycles of cynicism.
Plethora of paranoia.
Ignorance ignites bliss before our eyes.
Yet wisdom wins spaces surrounding our troubled thoughts.
We dream of destinations far yet fleeting.
We wake up to nightmares needy of the nuisances that nests in our minds.
We're hungry for endings yet we yearn for beginnings.
We live in instances of ironies and presence of paradoxes.
The singularity has consumed us.
The set is empty.
The state of null has been the stability.

When we were younger we feared the dark,
We were afraid of the monsters hiding under our bed.
Prayed that nightmares would turn to visions of a playground park,
The next morning, we feel the tears that were shed.

Now that we're older, we have embraced solitude in darkness,
Finding comfort and solace when we're alone.
Yet we still fear our thoughts that cast vivid shadows over the emptiness,
For even waking moments are now nightmares on their own.

For tonight was about tears and trying,
Yet it shall be the last,
We shall continue dreaming,
Pursue hope not mere lust.
Now we know we hold such character,
What shall be, still unknown,
We'll get there, happier,
Trust in the break of dawn.

You're not the one who could comfort;
Neither shoulders to cry on.
You might have prepared to say some words;
Save them; be needed, they won't.
As much as someone was there waiting,
For your call that didn't ring,
This situation shall forever sing,
The epic cycle of emptiness where we're living in.
I do hope that it is true,
That one day, without looking, you'll find,
Someone who'll lift you from the blues,
And realize, "Hey, we're two of the same kind."

How would you look at her in her eyes
And tell her she's not happy?
How does one make her realize,
That her life is a pity party?
Though she'd say she's okay,
That she eventually had a reason,
Will she recognize such a priori?
Or sink in an afterlife of beacon?
God bless her and no one else,
May the angels, "In Excelsis Deo" eternally.
She could've had different shells,
Instead, she'd chosen her voice's echo.
How does one look into someone's life
And show her that she could be,
If only she knot a different tie,
A different world she could've seen.