nobody wants to hear my cries,
or the whispers of my aching heart,
I hope that maybe soon my heart dies,
so I no longer have to carry the guilt of things that I have not done,
I wait for the day I don't have to care,
can flea from every issue,
faster than a cheetah can even dream to run,
but even when my brain repeats,
like a broken record of all the things that once went wrong,
I wipe my own tears in the car's backseat,
because nothing in life is ever that significant,
or never should be, to me anyway,
but unfortunately you were truly magnificent.