The world is falling apart.
While I walked around a lake, a piece cracked off beneath my feet. I picked it up. It’s in my pocket. My fingers wrap around it when they’re numb with cold – something to hold on to when there is more news of war, more news of disaster, more news of death, more news of horror.
The world is falling apart. I’m trying to hold on to this one small piece. But it’s crumbling to dust beneath my touch, from squeezing too desperately.
I can think of a thousand reasons why I don’t believe in you.