For all of my life's readjusting,
I'm sorry to my younger mind.
In transition, I turned distrusting.
In transition, I left you behind.

I told you you would come to
It would be easy to get through,
But you told me, when I left you,
That with me gone, you'd be dead

How accurate, it's shocking
Now that we're no longer talking
I feel a ghost beside me
When I lie in our old bed.

The moon starts the cycle as the days unfold
With fire begins Tuesday's birth.
Wednesday's waters, so stagnant and cold
They eat Thursday's trees 'till they're covered in mold
And Friday is covered in glitter and gold
While Saturday puts them to earth.

Then Sunday arrives as the week's realised,
And lights the way to its rebirth.

I sit and feel my soul rot
As he tells me I am beautiful
And I tell him I agree
I also think I'm beautiful
And wait for the conversation to move onto something else.

Sometimes
The cold seeps in
And doesn't come out.

Far from folk who would listen, you call out into the wind;
"If only you knew just how lovely you are."
And from the mountains
However faint, it calls back;
If only you knew just how lovely you are.

But listen close to its call, and the voice rings familiar.