Pick Up The Revolver

You know,
They carved a landscape.
And named it after you.

Every curve perfect,
Every flaw, an admiration.

But it doesn't even echo here
When I shout your name.

I guess that means, you don't hear me.

I guess that means,
I wish you would.

I never recognize the quiet
Until I'm the only one lost in it.
Screaming in it.

So now I'll try to whisper.