Even if I had to suffer,

And go back to that insanity.

And even when I'm lost (like now);

There is a Language inside of me. 

That still, inside the quietness of laziness

and so different from anyone else.

That it could be broken (or deleted if online);

That it could be damaged (or traumatized for those who can handle it).

That they could be in urns or in graves.

And I searched every song I knew, 

Every and any lyric that I knew for the answers. 

And I know that I'll want to write this poem again,

to type and post it again and again and again. 

 

God Is Everything To Me