oh words, shall i find myself in you? will you let me find my strength in your beauty again? i remember when just seeing the words arranged prettily made the burdens fly away. words, will you envelop me again? the tides never stay high; when the sand bares its jagged edges, will you comfort? will you make up for the tide, words? can i hold your hand, words? can i find an eternal comfort in you, words?
it is so much easier to attempt to fill the hole with something right in front of your eyes, something inanimate that you can hold in your hands, that will never love you back, so that it will never have to, eh? But no, because God; I have been running to all these things, and God, I am so fickle.