In the palm of my hand, I find a dream
Like a small light
I can sing about its specialness
It faintly connects my meaning
A fragile, weak dream
If someone peeks, it will break
Nothing fits
Nothing fills
Everyone other than me, [blank]
Without a name, I won’t decorate
An unnamed prototype
In a tower of rubble
Wanting to turn
Vague meanings into shapes
Knowing they’re the same
Is it to ease loneliness?
I don’t know if I like or hate
I just don’t have another way to convey
Every time I take in
Every time I spit out
It fills a little [blank]
If I name it, someone will find it
Not now
Even hundreds of years later
Even if I’m not here
What do I fill it with
How do I satisfy it
So I can go there
Continuing to create
Continuing to satisfy
Meeting [blank] many times
Without a name, I won’t decorate
An unnamed prototype
In a tower of rubble
Yet endlessly