The period of it all.

Oh how I write to you

you never know its you I'm talking to

But me I don't know me

Or maybe I don't know us?

I know you though

I know the hurdle in the shape of a block

All your glories and pain

At the same time putting us out of our misery

Yes we still have the wrist twisting and apprehension

Was my words deposited sufficient to your liking

How I use you though everytime I do

I'm not finished

Just like now how you'll wait for me patiently but it will bring me all the agony just to finish a thought and the little absurd point of it all to make it to

the end of the line.