You're just an idea in my head.
Very persistent idea who wakes me up every morning.
An idea that makes my breath shallow and fast, nostrils flared.
You're an idea that squeezes my lips and widens my eyes.
You're an idea I want to inflict pain upon, punch you out of existence.
But as someone before me said: ideas are bulletproof.
I guess I'll have to learn to live with you.
Let's go then.