Left Waiting

Live's a book that writes its self
Ours fell off the stages
From the top shelf
And you tore out our pages

Words for us to be
And now we're nothing
Leaving me to see
That I'm left here waiting

Like an endless street
With no lights or walks
I'm stuck with missing defeat
And memories of our short talks

There's still no words to find
For me to explain this feel
Making me seem so blind
And this so hard to deal

I'm bleeding from my chest
Without you anywhere to hear
And I have cuts only on my wrist
Even when the knife is nowhere near

In this long winter rain
I know I'm going to die
From this tear stained red pain
This is my last and fatal cry.