Can’t hope a solitary act could let us start again. My youth taught me there’s nothing to be learnt. This world is older than us. Give me something to remember. Now it’s sold, and they couldn’t help when they found you here. Give me something good to die for. Another way, no they couldn’t help when they found you here. Father told me not to hope and live my life in fear. But now that sinking hell came back around. And mother said that something told me not to trust my life with him. Would that be something to believe? Not a solitary act, or your words. Just remember you’re the one who holds the rope. And if I promise to be you, I’ll find myself involuntary. I’m finally sinking, fighting to hold. This time around.