I wrote
and wrote
and wrote
and wrote
and wrote
and wrote
and wrote

And you read
And kept reading
And said so many things
And most were not hollow
But in the morning, we're still
Across borders
Across highways
Across Oceans
Separate lives

Broken
Is not being shattered
Into a million pieces
Broken
Is not being suicidal
Though that certainly is a part
Broken
Isn't when the pieces don't fit
Or you keep trying
But it keeps falling apart
Broken
Means not knowing what to do
With those pieces
Broken
Is being unable to meet people's eyes
Because you don't know what the hell
You're doing there either

Broken
Is 3:40 AM
Looking into the eyes
In the mirror

a life drowned in music
smothered in depression
and kept in the shadow of my past mistakes.
relating to every word some black man spits,
through the radio our hearts are connected.
I feel every beat in the bass as a stab to my heart.
talking about getting money, ******* women,
and life on the streets.
Maybe we aren't so different after all.
His streets my hallways,
his money my dream,
his women my regrets,
his words my swag.
I rock to the beat of struggle and pain,
a mixed boys struggle,
a life with no end.
Alone? not really.
But a feeling so natural it's comfortable,
a feeling I hate, yet its the only thing that lets me know I'm alive.
A beat so unique once it's heard you'll never forget it
A beat that gets stuck in your head and won't ever come out
This beat is me.

If only.
If only I could go back and save your life.
If only I could go back and tell you I loved you.
If only I could go back and take the phone out of your hands so you would see the road.
If only I could change the color of the stoplights.
If only I could have made the light green and not red.
If only I could go back and stop the truck from hitting you.
If only I could go back and stop time.
If only there was a way to bring you back.
If only.