When you hold on something so dearly, and you pay attention on something so petty.
Then you'd realize later that your hands came empty.
A panic feeling, a dread rose from your throat.
And you'll try calm your nerves convincing it wasn't lost.
You searched through the tall grasses, you searched for the roads.
You went back to the places
You've been before... before it was lost.
Then you'd feel the hatred towards yourself.
You'd bear the guilt and beat yourself up;
Start contemplating of what you should've done.
And what you shouldn't have done.
For it was something so precious. And now it was gone
You cry and cry.
Ironic, isn't it?
The more you shed your tears;
The more you lose those salty fluids,
The more the emptiness was being relieved.
And you'd start to think that maybe you could do without it.
You start to look for diversion
And searched for something. That was quite more valuable.
You forced the acceptance to yourself like a forkful of greens that was shoved into your mouth once when you were young.
That lost thing will be forgotten
Or so you believe it would be...
But what if...
What if it was irreplaceable?
What if I couldn't find someone more precious than you?
What will I do?
