Ah, pretending to be happy is but a sad distraction.
I rush to give you my silent warning - a gentle squeeze of your hand.
As I glance at the path I've walked, I've endured, companionless,
my face is overwhelmed with a familiar aroma,
and the dust keeps piling up.
I collapse outside of town, landing softly.
My legs are weary of their endless journey.
And fleeting memories run through my head.
I see the same profile, hear the same words over and over.
Like the girl who asked me "Isn't life so sad when all you do is live?"
You're still careless, young and helpless.
Disappearing into a hollow void.
Now, having witnessed sadness you should never have seen
Crying tears that should have remained dry.
We may not be tough enough to live on truth alone,
but you know, we don't need to be.