Perhaps*

It isn't the same without you
I try so hard to understand how
And why and if and who?
But my fingers
Slippery from dancing on the ice
Pass through gossamer.
Who makes me what I am?
Media sculpts
Like sculpting snow
Or mud
That crumbles in hot palms
Balancing on a pool
Of morality
(I still can't hear you)
Placing the planet second
The people first
What a way to live
(I still can't hear you)
Manners, girl, manners!
But why?
(I still can't hear you)
It doesn't matter any more.