The hard math of love.

The full realization of the self.

The echoes you heard in the caverns of eternity.

With over-arching tendencies.

Where trying is a fever dream,
Uncertain if it is an illusion.

But then it wants absolution,
Which it does not receive in equal portions
And some still say it is just that you should know suffering
Or that you deserve love.

So what is love then?
Never confused, I guess!

So you tore my voice to shreds because you were terrified of the lyrics,
Okay I get it.

Because you suspected that you were not meant to be a singer,
Not like them.

Alright.

But before you did, you had some moments singing
And now, no one will ever know.

No one but you, anyway.

But I suppose that's all that matters.