The Excuse of a Response

And as usual, I would not agree;
Point out, this is temporary,
Metals inside last lesser
Than the metals outside, ever.
Escapism, I'd endorse, if
I knew the why behind grief,
And as you say, yourself,
The trick is to delve.
Stop the music, if silence
Feels too silent hence.

Sounds and sights,
Wants and desires,
Code words and proverbs,
Things the mind loves.
But then, what do I say?
My own words sway,
Temporary, I repeat
And console every heart beat
That I always have a plan
That words cannot span
Stretching into infinity, and then,
Nothing-ness.
Nothing else.
Excuses, again.
I always need them.