I study life in the dark
Smoky apparitions imparting wisdom
Answers to queries unknown
Complications are simplified
I hypothesize. I theorize. I assume. I know. Then I don’t…
Expectant with ‘Her’, I am…
Wishing I could abort
Can she love me?
Maybe she’s concealing it
I’m solitary in my affections
An underpinning to disaster
Attempts to run end up in futility
So I try to mask it in anger
Providence always reunites us
She takes one step toward me
And I go running to her
I hate myself for loving her
So what do I do?
Does this tragedy have an ending?
Is the story still being written?
Do I really want it to end?
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