This hurts and I’m not sure
And I don’t want to guess anymore.
So I clap both my hands
To suggest who I am.
Not for a way,
Not for a guess,
Not for a little bit,
Not for the end.
And I whisper
Into the death of my vision
So I may not know
The next steps to be taken
With wind in my face
And a slump, lacking all grace.