what if it were us
crestfallen in a semi-ruined city
observing our fragile lives collide
lost the instructions on how to be human
burying chances which could've made a difference
how many times have we been here before?
roaming the abandoned valleys
a collection of dismal smiles
haunts the stones that once made a home
those hours shared under the roof
future contains possibilities
of our unwritten stories we hold inside
for doubt eats them raw
and we fear what our words might initiate
if the dust of the universe is ever-present
then why aren't our building blocks stronger?