A song, written today. First draft.
Tell me
What did you want to be?
Tell me
What was it like to live a dream?
I wish I was there...
but it can never be.
Tell me
Would you have done it differently?
Tell me
Why did you stop?
I wish I could, perhaps
It would be nice to feel relaxed
but now I'm cold
and scared all the time
I'm burned out, but know it's still not enough
I'm dying in the darkness
and you are in my eyes
and ears, again
my imaginary friend.
One day, perhaps I'd like to hear
your real voice say
keep going,
that we both matter,
but only I
and imaginary you
will ever know.
There's nothing more
than something
that sounds like a song.
