To You, From You

And if I could see a promise kept of your silver smile,

Maybe it would stop the sun from looking quite so bright.

It’s been blinding my tears, every golden sunrise,

And now I’m fallen, sick and tired.

My head’s sick, tired and spinning,

Everything’s hitting

The walls inside.

Look behind,

The corners of my sordid, twisted, disappearing mind.

Too many empty words that lie,

When you read everything I want to shout in my eyes.