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One voice inside to another says "I've got
more problems than us both". But that's
so sick to call life a problem that has its needs
and needs to be solved. she thinks it over
while her satin black mane waves perfectly
over one eye. she sits cross-legged doubled
over as if she's clutching a child waiting to die.
Is it worth it? If you want to find peace at the
end of the road I promise I'll be there. Her
heart has no bearing a weak sense of
directions and things take too long to register.
Listen to regrets, at long last she's released
his love. And the front door haunts her.