Back to the present she has tried to get,
But her past is one she cannot forget...

I'll pull out the first aid box
Nurse your bruised knee...

Let's Talk
Simple as it stands this poem is about lost love...

White machines and silver wires keep me sewn...
Beeping noises and stolen seconds make my stomach...

Blood is running down my thigh,
Causes me to tremble, cold...

Pretty angel,
My magnetic pull...

My False Idol
When you look at me...

Translate those foreign lines,
Slow down that frantic speech...

How I ache,
How you hurt me...