Twelfth Stroke Of Midnight

I can't read between the lines Of a letter That you've never written I can't begin to compromise On a problem That you have invented Dead stares cut a paper heart And beats ink in these pages Letters written in regret To many lifeless faces This is the end of me I am running on empty Hours spent pouring over these words With nothing gained All that was lost with nothing learned I'm just feeling drained This is taking so much out of me I am doubting my place as of late I wish I could make this Paper heart come alive All my time spent on Writing this living lie All my time spent on this lie