I've been a little loud, sometimes a little shallow. Acting like I know everything about everyday and that more than screaming how much I used to be in love with everything but me. Truth is I never truly did. Flowers sprouse out of my mouth and I gasp for air and I never truly breathe. You are not here but you're never truly there. I walk and a path of shadows is formed, all of my past is traced leaving a mark on earth but everyone told me I wouldn't leave anything here.
I always thought I'd die young. How old is young? Let us give it a few more years.