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Dana Apr 2020
It's me, the master of never letting go,
and yet I let you slip, you kept me for
show, and to prove your theory about
             + a bit of confidence
             = you
said you wouldn't want to miss it
and that's a reason to stay.

It's me, the master of never letting go,
I was kept for show and stole it, got burned
yet returned, listened to, not understood,
the one who always sticks around, now
I look both ways crossing streets, managed
to become an end to the means.

It's me again, I'm tired, was held in a cage
that promised flight, the sun never changed
directions, it's a never-ending sight, like
a movie set, except this time I'm a side
character and there are no extras.

It's me, the master of never letting go.
Is anyone listening? It's fine if you aren't.
This one is not about the show.
Dana Apr 2020
I always feel too much, and
you never feel enough, like
two halves of the wrong circles
fighting to become whole.

So is this how it ends? Or we
could try and make a square.
I always care too much and
you care just the right amount,
so this one's on me.

You usually know what to say.
So we try sine and cosine.

They work. We're waves.
It's a throwaway sunset.
It's time.

The devil is dancing on
your shoulder. All the
angels are asleep on mine.

— The End —