It's a fire It's a good song There's better, though There always is That's the problem It seems like everything that's good is tainted by my incessant search for that thing that's better. But that's not what this is about, is it? No, I think not (Random poetic interlude) I give of myself And don't ask for much But looking in my open hands Leaves me feeling out of touch This treadmill won't get me anywhere. I could write so much more. I'm a fairly good writer, and my tale is a sad one. I could make you cry. I don't care who you are, you'd cry. For different reasons, all of you. I could make you all understand. But I won't I never will This is my thing To do Alone