What is the answer ?
This is left and this is right.
Number one satisfies my fight.
Number two makes my body kick at night.
Number one would help me win my fight.
Number two would recognize my fight.
This is right and that is fine.
Held in the intellectual mind of one.
The romantic embrace of two.
One is good, but could get bad.
Two is fine, but could get better.
Time reminds me of one. Heart reminds me of two.
Seasons makes me call on one.
Forever makes me call on two.
Both a man, never cheated.
Always fighting absurd intent.
Time would tell and face would be.
The heart does fear what it doesn’t see.
Covered in the depth of the woman I perceive to be, both would be good, but one would go ahead of me....
Not to be hasty or partial.
Not to be silly or carefree.
Perceiving accordingly, never just to season.
One might one day never see a me, two might forever be blind to me.
What shall I be with this?
To pick a three would never profit what I preach.
My becoming would be crippled by multiple wills.
What then shall I say to one or two? Give me time let me heal? Forget we had any of these?
I am scared, let me be?
This girl is more than all you see.
Perhaps, I shall request if they can contain my figure.
Tasting one, but knowing two.
An angel to make one bored.
An obstruction to birth some fun.
I shall aid their becoming, I shall become a me.
Whenever the cross is heavy, who will become a pick?
The one who speaks my heart to understand?
The one who births the thoughts of some other time?
With no selfishness on call, trying to make a choice before my soul is shut.
My inability to want to be wrong.
One is different, two is close to the past; a past that had much life.
My perfect intent lies in before two, what if I never knew all I thought I should.
There is one, becoming his all, perfect and strong, yet the hidden flaws of silence as that of a storm. Knowing I’d wake up and never want a one, the thirsty would have burnt and the hunger gone.
Yet, this two looks like one to run.
One does like to fight.
Two might never stand in gap.
However way I stand, I might wake up and never remember
If one won or two did, I still would live this life.
But to learn to contain, not to deceive, wise and great.
What season is this? Bitter memories or Silent hatred?
All I can or all I am?
Partially or all of me? Half or together forever?
One or two?
What is the answer?
Number one satisfies my fight.
Number two makes my body kick at night.
Number one would help me win my fight.
Number two would recognize my fight.
This is right and that is fine.
Held in the intellectual mind of one.
The romantic embrace of two.
One is good, but could get bad.
Two is fine, but could get better.
Time reminds me of one. Heart reminds me of two.
Seasons makes me call on one.
Forever makes me call on two.
Both a man, never cheated.
Always fighting absurd intent.
Time would tell and face would be.
The heart does fear what it doesn’t see.
Covered in the depth of the woman I perceive to be, both would be good, but one would go ahead of me....
Not to be hasty or partial.
Not to be silly or carefree.
Perceiving accordingly, never just to season.
One might one day never see a me, two might forever be blind to me.
What shall I be with this?
To pick a three would never profit what I preach.
My becoming would be crippled by multiple wills.
What then shall I say to one or two? Give me time let me heal? Forget we had any of these?
I am scared, let me be?
This girl is more than all you see.
Perhaps, I shall request if they can contain my figure.
Tasting one, but knowing two.
An angel to make one bored.
An obstruction to birth some fun.
I shall aid their becoming, I shall become a me.
Whenever the cross is heavy, who will become a pick?
The one who speaks my heart to understand?
The one who births the thoughts of some other time?
With no selfishness on call, trying to make a choice before my soul is shut.
My inability to want to be wrong.
One is different, two is close to the past; a past that had much life.
My perfect intent lies in before two, what if I never knew all I thought I should.
There is one, becoming his all, perfect and strong, yet the hidden flaws of silence as that of a storm. Knowing I’d wake up and never want a one, the thirsty would have burnt and the hunger gone.
Yet, this two looks like one to run.
One does like to fight.
Two might never stand in gap.
However way I stand, I might wake up and never remember
If one won or two did, I still would live this life.
But to learn to contain, not to deceive, wise and great.
What season is this? Bitter memories or Silent hatred?
All I can or all I am?
Partially or all of me? Half or together forever?
One or two?
What is the answer?
Comments
Post a Comment