"So come a little closer, tell me it's all in our heads
We're young and in love, heart attacks waiting to happen
So come a little closer, tell me those three little words"
sore spots are a sign that the pressure
pressed on has forced out what was locked away
the tag stamps the timeline just as fine as the sandal slips in distain
both to old age and aggravated assault by degree of force or weighted pursuit
some things simply are not meant to be, simple addition and subtraction
a mirror distorts, bends, deflects just as light breaks and our eyes lie
an enigma that knowledge alone cannot dispel, just setup new beginnings
a grove to nurture and take solace (in) should one find need to rest (or hibernate, quietly, just as Summer)
ends so do passions, whoever it comes to be the decider, shared comission or otherwise
it does not take an expertise to empower my decisions irregardless of permission:
leave some space to facilitate the divide of ambition without the setback of surgical precision
a narrow comedown to the drumming of heartbeat and tension dissipate all the same,
a river meeting manmade cannal or drug injections, don't make it my decision
"don't wait for me"
we all get to be the victim,
once.
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