Tyrant

It would be so nice to see you, with so much I have to tell you

It can seem my words are wasted when they're merely written down

In the room that I am renting, there's a table where I'm sleeping

It's my first sight come the morning, for there's little else around

On the table, a collection of some pills that I've been taking

I can't tell you if they're working, but I have them, so I do

While an unused ink eraser lies beside my pen and paper

I'll admit that while I'm writing, I direct each word to you

Though you wouldn't recognize me if you were to sit and face me

You'd struggle now to place how we've a path that overlaps

In your memory, the traces, amid a sea of fading faces