So often I am cast
as the convenience...
Do you still love me?
I’m asking for a friend...
How can I avoid you,
When I love talking to you...
I do not erupt at the slightest flame,
I watch in silence, remembering every name...
I am a squiggle of imperfection,
a reality that bites...
Life is like writting with a pencil
It takes time to learn how to control it...
The biggest room inside my house
Is not the one where I lay my head...
The truly beautiful women are yet to be born,
For beauty is more than a face that makes heads...
as soon as I think I’m over him
he looks at me...