It's a different kind of lonely, man.
It eats at you
Claws at you
Insults you with it's naked rear
The irony is there of course.
Like a sailor thirsty stranded at sea
So many paths to take
So many opportunities presented
Yet all I can managed is a nod and thumbs up
But hope,
Sweet, putrid, hope
Is there
Still
There
Whispering strength
(Where it came from? I have no idea)
Pushing me despite my objections
Fine.
You win this time.
I'll
talk
to
Them.
