you say we're running out of pages,
i say, i'm running out of time,
to make what's left art, my character's arc,
i find beauty in the madness all the time.

you listen to whoever’s loudest,
i'm writing quietly, "you're sadistic",
for never caring how i could fit in it,
stories coming to an end,
resolution's just pretend,
why did you call me your friend?

you know i'm more for retribution,
daggers in my back, i pull through it,
sharpen blades and play okay,
let you narrate your mistakes,
i bite tongues and say it’s fine,
calculate my grand goodbye,
now i know it's the last time.

you say we're only getting older,
i say, i'm not the bravest solider,
when you made me go to war,
waving white flags at our shore,
did you think i could take more?
i’m out of pages, writing more...