Friends are the ghosts of our pasts Friends don’t go, or stay Instead they ghost you Like a train stopping but going still To me, a website for animations Are the trains that come and run out Run out of what though Fuel, motivation, inspiration All of those are true The website is a shield from reality Yet, it’s the hell of drama but of kindness It’s the one thing none of us can handle We are the people of the pencil The pencil runs out but can’t be fixed A sword can be bent but can be fixed A pen isn’t mightier than a sword