An empty glass sits on the table.
Your keys are by the door.
Say, "I never want to give up hiding".
Pretend, until you believe it.
I believe it's that simple.

The words I once cherished –
they tore stitches from skin,
from the wounds of friends
and left scars. I'm scared now,
even to speak.

Simple things are all I can see.
Don't think about it,
and maybe it'll vanish.
Hear that?
The glass cracks in her hand.

A dream pours gasoline on its feet
and reaches for the lighter.