Right back at ya

To my friend, my dearest A.
Right back at ya, my dearest E.

My words, they might be the trigger for the gun that tells you to go, the rain that your flower needs so desperately, the key to free your bird from its cage.
Your words are fired from close range
Like bullets through my brain
But this wound won't make a stain
It will heal and like a broken bone
I hope it will grow even stronger

Start questioning, start searching, not for something, but for anything.
Questions are asked
-Answers will come
The search is on, I have been looking for someone
So much so that I might have stopped searching myself

Start to move, start to run, not from, but to.
Heart is beating,
My feets are pacing
I am running I know not where
But I know I can't stand still here Know I have to move

My words, they might not take you far, might not take you anywhere at all, but maybe that's exactly their purpose, to not make you move, but encourage you to.
Your words,
they might have already taken me miles away
might have been the spark that started the fire
maybe they are the final piece in the puzzle making e move encouraged by your words