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Us 007
Silence hurts but words seem forced
The third floor hold zombies
"C-a". "C-h". Two lockers in between.
Our tears could drown this school.
Intentions are noted but nothing is solved.
The clock's counting down my time-our time.
Tell them you love them, it says, Tell them you care.
Nothing seems worth being angry over...NOTHING
Silence hurts but words are forced.
I once heard that to love something you must give something up.
I didn't think it would have to be a life for us to love ours.
It can happen to anyone. Now it's happened to us. And there's nothing to say; no lesson to teach.
You think it's enough and it's not.
You think people can exist without feeling and they can't.
Go a day without speaking of blinking or smiling-not depressed, not numb, not confused, not angry, just existing in the flesh- and you'll realize things all over again.
What and who you thought you know, you don't.
All you know is that we're here and when we're not, someone notices; someone cares; someone's silence has got to mean something.
Otherwise we're all just talking for the sake of it; learning nothing but our names.
Take us back to fingerpaints, paper hates, first slow dances, color-divided pep rallies and realize that we're mixed. BLACK.
Sometimes dark and unknown and other times just existing like the night sky with no other purpose than to comfort the lonely wanderer at two A.m.
What else is there to say?
It's just plain black.
Silence hurts but words seem forced.
