She calls you, after a few more times you answer. Things turn into sections
and the truth falls to the ground creating a puddle.

The subject turns to that of which was discussed before, your voice rises,
just like the atmosphere.

I ask you a question and it is time to implode that you are not the only one
with answers.

The soul in the atmosphere takes it in understanding, as the blocks melt
together the soul increases taking in everything.

Not The Only One

The clots in the wall refuses to let go,
in the glass sherd's the words bleed together.

The specks of blood cringe together and create Not The Only One.
 
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