These are words for things I can't see,
Written in hope they'll replace heartache meant for me.
These words are for the things you do,
That less experienced souls wouldn't believe.

This poem knows the lies you tell in the dark.
And sees your icy bite without a mark,
That you have a taken from my life.
Your face aroused to the twist of the knife.

This poem sees your dance in my shadow
Even if I could not.
Still I feel the indifference
Of a girl who only knows the amusement of false hope.

These words whisper what you've done
And what you'll do to write more sadness.
But my mind is safe,
In a daydream that's tumbled into the ecstasy of madness.

This poem has determined what I dissent.
And it clings to the nostalgia of a freedom it has never known.
While these words only look back,
My tapering gaze derails at the destination of a desolate dream.