You don't know if it's his life...
As he leaves the room early,
He is leaving the room so quickly...
You have a thought so casual
That it happens without direction.
Into the air it flies in tiny swirls, never landing...
A simple:
"We are not leaving yet."
Like a feather through the wind...
You don't know if it's her life...
You've seen her on campus,
And she scares you.
The thoughts are empty.
Again, pressed into the ground.
Nothing but a cold observation, left in your step...
A simple:
"Her face is hard."
You don't know if it's his life...
As he stands in line before you.
He curses all the things he mentions.
A small, the smallest opinion:
You stamp it on him.
And quit listening.
A simple:
"That was harsh."
But you don't know.
We just can't know.
If it's his life that could make you cry through the night.
If it's him you love and only his story you despise...
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