I need something to lean against, I think that’s okay.
“Butterflies” you read to me, they all flew away.
And I’m saddened by the thought, and sometimes I think too much.
And though I’m happy right here, you know I’m really not.
I could hook up my heart to your ears and let my tears be your morphine drip.
And maybe it’s easier to let you slip away than it is to say goodbye, so I hold my breath.
Because in the countdown to death, the question of “Why?” Melts into “When? how much time do we have left?”
Because if I knew what I know now then move pen move.
Write me a mountain because headstones are not big enough. None of this is. Stop it.
“Write me a poem to make me happy.” I swear write this, “Stay.” She smiles and says “gotta go.” I know, goodbye.
”—Dan Mangan - Tragic Turn Of Events/Move Pen Move