I tread the surface where love is nothing but a dream,

Where memory is fantasy and dreams reside to better beings,

As suns set mine stays frozen in its place,

An endless loop of lost hope that I’ve made,

If I could blame everything on someone else, I would,

But I try my hardest not to be you, as I should,

You’re my proof I’ll never be you,

Each day that passes I strive to stay true,

Because each raised-voice situation has made a home in my mind,

Each painful blow has dug it’s way, an emphasis of time

And how past is past but comes to in the present,

It plagues one’s mind like it did mine until all you can do is accept it;

—Wait, but you’re not supposed to accept tragedy

No, what happened was horrid—accepting is recognizing it did happened.

I recognize my tragedy, I raise a glass to the trauma,

Without it, would things not be so much different?

So I nod my respects to my child prodigy and drama,

Even though to what you did I’m more than indifferent.