If I could say what I think.
Maybe I wouldn't feel empty.
Because just maybe you would stay.
But now I feel my hour glass,
is running on nothing,
From the past laughter,
To the present silence,
Though thousands of faces that pass by,
I'm still here.
My shallow breaths, and small frame,
Still supporting life,
Just as much as the massive oak,
That bids me a good morrow as i pass,
Or the wind who calls me home,
You don't notice at all?
Can't you see!
I'm still here.
You're satisfied with what you see,
But you know don't you,
You know there's much more then that,
No matter how much you want to rid me,
No matter what you make your self believe,
I'm still here.