If I wrote a million words to you
would you feel any better?

If I her just how I felt
would her tears be any wetter?

At 3am, birds beautiful song
would simply upset her.



Maybe I could write the words
to myself, find my consolation?

The trumpet played but never heard
will receive no affirmation...

To chip the paint that covers it
will only increase the oxidation!



Suppose I run without turn of cheek
and leave sorrow behind me

... but sorrow lives, and much like a dog
will follow, beg right beside me

Turn to the sky to see much more...
but the Sun will simply blind me.