For she is a flower But I am no gardener I am but nothing I am no father I am no man I’m nothing
Cursing I can hear her lips pursing Her unbridled persona My little Begonia Her petals pure The finest of feathers or furs
For I am the fool Love, lust, and loneliness Lurking behind my back Simple somatic responses that I use as tools To make up for what I lack
Obsession and the obsessed Like oppression and the oppressed Merely Another Person of Interest Do you count the seconds or measure the minutes? What is love’s limit?
To think about one person before it’s considered obsession Is it me or my depression That makes me obsess That makes me complacent and accept To stay stagnant and repeat Rinse, Relapse, and repeat