This isn’t about you
And the multitude of faces I call ‘you,’
It’s not about me either,
So who is it for?– don’t bother.
It’s for the thousandth time I changed the verses,
It’s for the millionth time I fought the forces.
The endless time I longed for my saving grace,
The longest time I hurt, so long as I think it pays.
It’s for the days I hoped I will be saved,
Exhumed, unearhted, as I was engraved.
It’s for the nights I courted these shrines,
For the ‘you’ to come and finish all the lines.
It’s for the faith in this, in ‘you,’ in everything,
And the fact that all I can have is nothing,
The waitfor my deux ex machine to come,
The wait for all the voices to join a single hum.