I write the wrong,

and time goes on,

Changing everything,

and repairing nothing.

From seasons to faces,

to every word you've ever said.

and I've called you out,

I've exposed you.

But there's no way you could ever be stopped,

especially by an honest mouth,

especially belonging to me.

I am nothing more or less

than a writer of mediocre tragedy,

(I only hope the world will never read).

and you'll only ever be what you are.

So for the sake of friendship,a toast:

to the future,

when you've sunk into yourself,

so far you can't be found.