I often fill my head with bile
but when I tell myself a lie
its an unnoted half truth

there was always the hashtag
that sounded to me
how you speak out my name
and to be now, not alone
cries to me, plays, like a wicked game

there's a moment of silence
for the fact there's another
but I, no sorrowing man
know chains meant be broken
life cannot be our pixilated dreams
when reality, like a child's toy
begins to tear at its seams