My phone memory is exhausted, the database is so full yet it's so empty.
Maturity turns more to less & loneliness stems from plenty.
You'll count up to two, eight, fourteen, twenty.
Then you look up to a crowded room of meaningless people & see no one, lord where have you sent me?
A path of numerals is not a pleasant walk.
All these texts, all these calls & conversations but lack of substance equates deafness, I can no longer hear them talk.
Gosh, I can't erase this chalk.
How I wish to throw water on my blackboard and fast forward, I must repel & balk.