My words, they float up-
like smoke in the air
stretching so thin,
you wouldn't guess that they were there.
They rise to the clouds.
They fade in the sun
and out of my mouth
they were softly sung:

"Please, could you please, bring comfort back to me?
The Giving Tree refuses to give.  
I promise I won't take any more than I need,
if you'll please just free my comfort and spill it over me."

My long string of letters still holds no response.
i fear they've been lost over time.
But, i croon for love and I scream out of hate.
So, after all that, I feel fine.

"Oh, nothing can hurt me, not even your lies.
No, you can't **** my spirit, because this one is mine.
My words may turn brittle, but they'll tickle your spine.
Oh, nothing can hurt me.  I've buried this time alive."