As I write meaningless phrases, a thought blooms.
Without meaning, words are shallow, phrases boring, pages barren. Without meaning I dare not speak, I just crowd my head with boring filler.
Without meaning it all becomes prey to deadly silence, maddening static, hopeless white-noise.
Without tears, I'd still drown in sorrow, without a mouth I'd still scream in agony, without a heart, I'd still bear memories of yours in my chest.
Without whom I'm meaningless, is you...