A crew
A cruel crew
Slicing, dicing
No cutting corners
I tried to help
I jumped in the way
Between the blades
My scent dispersing
Kindness upon kindness
A hard look
A soft look
One satisfied man
Restraint
Practicing restraint
I keep from kicking in the bass
There are always more followers
Sometimes they get detained
Tripped up on small details about
Who studies harder
Who knows more
One look at me and you may need to find a new book
In hindsight, it was a "No"
Which one of us is the most fucked up?
I with my stringy hair?
Her with the excessive patience?
Or the one wielding the knife?
I predict a reasonable hero at the end of this story.
One who will slide beneath the door.
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