No offense taken.

You can't talk about what you say
You've given up on, because it won't come true.
It's like those fickle, shooting stars.
They just don't respond to suggestion.
Maybe it doesn't hurt to keep your
Secrets for tomorrow.

Pay no mind to what you step over in hallways,
Just open a window.
The most they can do is offend in passing,
Stillborn shadow puppets by flickering bulbs.
Open mouths, caught in between a word and a thought.
I will survive.