Is it wrong that I still long to belong?
To share every care and touch your hair?
To pillow fight, fly a kite, hold me tight,
whisper secrets in the dark, swing in the park?
Words are nature with no sound,
for how can we appreciate the warbler’s song
when we do not listen to the lyrics?
we cry the same tears
and wash the same pains
but we are not one
and yet here we remain.