Stories make us who we are Have to share every instance That can give someone the slightest hint Of who you are God forbid, your words aren't heard You swore to yourself That you'd leaving feeling Strong in your word With an image to match But like this little match That can't light damp heavy wood Your burning all your energy To be understood and brought to life In bright bursts of fire But the jobs too big And the efforts go unnoticed To all except for the pile of Matches at the bottom of this pit Swing and a miss