what a mistake i made
and now its too late
i never feel wanted
i shouldn't have stayed
and the hot morning's still till it meets the cool wafting breeze
inside it is simmering.
resentment, total, maddening anger and resentment to her
i am attention depraved
hurry, hurry through the thickets; through the fog
through the mire, and the branches--
It can't be long.
I am not a dog.
This love is not unconditional.
This love is unsure
This love is hurting
This love is waiting
This love is not worth it.
And the ticketman rips the ticket in 'twain.
You see me in the window, smiling crookedly.
I am patient and subservient, my love undeserving,
but in no way infinite.
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