A/N: So sorry for slacking as far as posting goes… This week, I've been relatively swamped with homework and studying. But, finally, the weekend is here and I'm done with all the big projects and tests, so I allow myself to return my attention to finer things. Fictionpress, for example. I hope I can still write.

This is familiar but we're all still here,

Unable to be pulled from memories

Of those never coming home.

Outsiders claim it's no deal:

Walking and breathing for nothing

But to hear somebody next to you.

All they need is right with them.

Why else would we turn to this but loneliness?

The music makes me ache so much

For something I love so dearly.

Traitors and best friends,

Those of us touching the sky.

Where else are we so perfect?

Where can we turn when it's over?