I thought this book
Was supposed to have 1,000 pages
more…
My isolation isn’t justifying
Haven’t I ever been so sure
Was what I said wrong
The way the pieces were all torn up
When I couldn’t be there for you
And I painted myself a picture
When I didn’t have a choice
And I fell into empathy
If there wasn’t so much wasted time
Maybe we’d be living in ambiguity
Then was it perfection
Was what I never was
The time was only lengthened
By what I never knew
The lightness of the surroundings
Only made it easy for you
The way that it feels under my skin
I can’t grasp anything solid