How dare you waltz words with me... Though it is yet to happen, I fear it. My Darling I fear it... for it is an irrevocable hysteria within me - to have you hold me at all, whenever.
Though the words flowed so easily, could it be that words eased so flawlessly for the reason that sincerity caused no friction and forethought? Could it truly be that one can persecute what one believes he/she undergoes? Though one relies often on his/her sense of touch and sight to guide them through physical tasks, what must one utilize within instances of the abstract? For one cannot stare at his/her emotions and apply wrench to it nor mold it with sturdy hands. What is one to do when his/her imagination undermines the better of him/her, leaving one's true identity in the shadow of the domineering terror of the unknown?
Though the words flowed so easily, could it be that words eased so flawlessly for the reason that sincerity caused no friction and forethought? Could it truly be that one can persecute what one believes he/she undergoes? Though one relies often on his/her sense of touch and sight to guide them through physical tasks, what must one utilize within instances of the abstract? For one cannot stare at his/her emotions and apply wrench to it nor mold it with sturdy hands. What is one to do when his/her imagination undermines the better of him/her, leaving one's true identity in the shadow of the domineering terror of the unknown?
