I planned on being divided like strangers.
I planned on shielding you from the warmth of the light.
I planned on Halloween costumes in October;
running through streets at night.
Clouds hang in the sky, the sky frowns brokenly down at me.
There's only so many problems I can take.
There's only so many wishes I can grant.
I am not a musician. Heck, I'm not even a doormat.
I am always the little problem in the back of your mind.
I am always the dent in someone's forehead,
the glare, the whisper, of shadows that moves within your mind.
I planned on being divided.
I planned on rushing rivers, scaling mountaintops.
There's nothing more you can do than to go back,
to be alone.