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Parcels
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Herefore
I don't want to be caught in the middle,
taking all that I thought and setting it off.
Temporal moving forward, its superficial.
But always closing doors, but a ripple.
I'm just here for, that girl.
Would I kill for, not her.
I don't want to be torn in the middle,
its deafeningly unsure, unofficial.
But silently still we talk, though a little.
When timingly is no more, but a ripple.
I'm just here for, that girl.
Would I kill for, not her.
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