Even the most Beautiful of people
Have a little Ugly in them.

Sometimes I see him in the afternoon
He likes to wonder around the garden
Round and round he goes sniffing the ground around him
Eats almost every insect and leaf in sight
W**aits around a little longer and moves on at the slightest fright

Sometimes I ponder
Sometimes I cry
Why do we fight to live?
When we are living to die.

It doesn't matter if he is a he or a she
It doesn't matter if she is a she or a he
It doesn't matter if the words, the passion, the love and the hate are expressed to a him or a her
The heart holds feelings nobody can ignore
The touch of a hand, the soft skin of another
The breath on your shoulder at the height of passion
Or the way you feel when you realise nobody in the world is more beautiful than he, or she, or him, or her
The way you laugh at things nobody else would find funny
And spend hours wasting the days doing things nobody else would do
A vessel is the only thing this disease needs to breed
And this vessel is always a she, a he, a him, or a her

Irrationality is a woman's best friend
The ability to make something with no meaning seem significant
The ability to worry about something that to someone else seems so small and irrelevant
But to a woman, this problem is the biggest thing in the world
Nothing else to worry about, just the problem, that problem and nothing else

If you have motivation in life
You will not have motivation in death
Motivation in death
Requires no motivation in life
Motivation in both is not right
It requires a different kind of person
Someone who is unhappy, sad and lonely and wanting to die