That, ''she used her words like knives.''
There seems to be no better imagery than that of self imposed emotion.
What I find then upon every click, is a step taken.
To where, I do not know,
But what I do know is,
That is not how you tame the beast.
Nor is that how you sweeten the well.
I can choose how to feel,
So that time may prove true as to the relevant chair.
In fact there seems to be no greater need.
What I notice is that I am in a different room
Where the lights flicker
And the question is such
That the monsters beneath the bed
Choose to lay their tired brow on your chest.
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