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Farenheit
Am I a bound victim of the truth?
A succumbed of the unevitable
It's seeping out from every cold and clammy angel
Fidgeting like him
Moving on like her
My cat sleeps peacefully on my green sheets
as I struggle to find a comfortable pose
Torture inside, lazy at worst
Still a child
fearing decisions and details
Not strong enough to see the big picture
Unsatisfied with golden fruit
glaring at the dirty stems from which they hang
rendering me useless
and too capable of boredom
Cannot help but smile
when arguing
Can't seem to be happy
in sunshine
There's always a reason at hand
to avoid the truth
and my selfish whining character
Lingering off in the distance
Like a crazed maniac
searching
too far away to get warm
