At this point,
Even the truth is meaningless.
I have to turn my head again,
Because the thought of you,
Now,
Makes me cringe in this cage.
It's so unfair to you;
You have no control,
And I with so little;
I think it's actually jealousy...
You look so set,
Partaking in conversation,
With those you are friend to,
And the one kissing you goodbye.
I'll just put on some glasses,
Walk this way,
Look at you as if you're finally comfortable,
Get some extra sun,
Take these drugs,
Understand it all like this,
"And yes, the third item is free ma'am."
What is it going to take,
For me to look through this mountain?
What book,
What therapist,
What God,
Teaches us how to un-instinctualize?
I know,
Actually,
This makes us our own,
But right now,
And some other times,
I hate my cards.
So,
I'm at the point where,
You would hear me chatter.
Speak of places I'd rather be,
And say,
"I'm going away"
To find myself;
Fix what hasn't been in whole...
But I've tried that,
The justification process,
And it's over;
The time has expired.
I've confessed...



What now?

Welcome to the crew, E.R..

The new blood is good blood.