There was a time, she said to me not so long ago.
It made me think about the things I don't already know.

I don't know if she loved me, her feelings were unclear.
I can tell you how my hands would shake whenever she came near.

I don't know where the light is, I can't seem to find the switch.
I can tell what the dark is like, she's a vacuous soulless *****.

I don't know how to "love" myself, I can be quite the ****.
My apathetic nihilism is enough to make me sick.

I don't quite get consumerism, is this something I should know?
Buying **** that I don't need just to help the market flow?

I once claimed to play piano, the fact is that I don't.
I could say that I want to, the fact is that I won't.

So many things left unmentioned, these things I don't know.
Like lightening bugs and that crazy bioluminescent glow.

There is something that should be said before I have to leave.
About a certain someone I keep tucked up in my sleeve.

She calls me out and lays me down stealing every breath.
A demeanor so befitting it would puzzle even Death.

Of all the things that I know so very little of.
She would be the only one that I could say I loved.