I was.. Wrong.
I thought you didn't care anymore.
I thought that because you didn't talk to me as much, you didn't want me.
But maybe what we needed was a break.
A break so we could take a breather.
After all, they do say that
Distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Caught somewhere between my vision of Hell and yours,
I was shown the truest meaning of the place.
Where an eager mind and playful soul is forced to all fours,
And told that they mustn't wear their true face.

They manufacture devils in the name of social grace.
They'll strip you of your pride and **** you to your core,
And it isn't done until you've been cast to the rat race,
Just to be reminded that your life's become a bore.

But I won't be a cog within their cold and ****** machine;
No, I'll never let them chip away who I am for their fair trade.
They manufacture devils, yet have the gall to call me mean.
I say I'm every bit the demon that you ******* made!

The tip of my pen is moved
by forces not my own.

The words that are unwritten,
never will be shown.

Marching across an empty page,
never knowing what to do.

All of me is forever lost,
Unless there is all of you.