Some nights I wonder if I could turn back the clock,
Maybe to the day we met or maybe to the day we never met.
We were never meant to be, or maybe we were.
I might never know the answer to that.
My conscious tells me something and my heart feels the opposite,
Confused in my own world with my own words.
Who is there to claim those lost alphabets.
Nothing but the sound of silence.
Burning inside of me, turning pieces of me into ashes.
They will blow away one day but they’ll always have a mark.
A mark that defines of what I’ve become.
Numbness has tried to conquer but there is no concrete.
I search for forgiveness at times,
For when I hated you,
For when I loved you more than I should’ve.
This might be the end of us,
But there’s beginning to it.