One time each time,
Thinking when is my time.
Each breath a crime,
It tastes like lime.
Can I stop this time?
Stop breathing by bedtime.

I'm alone.
Nowhere to roam.
Always on zoom,
Hidden in my room.
Waiting for flowers to bloom,
Waiting for my doom.

Noir and Blanc.
Swimming side by side.
Both full of pride.
Always arguing who is right,
Bickering with all their might.
Different beliefs,
Both in disbelief.
A pointless war,
not knowing what for.
Dorrance is their name,
Balance is not the way.
Only one can live,
So who is going to leave?

What shape is it's ears?
A silhouette so mysterious.
Wandering in the woods,
Not knowing how it looks.
A little pointy on the nose,
But it doesn't actually crow.
A lonely silhouette,
Disappearing into the sunset.

A little marimo moss ball.
Unfazed in its glass ball.
Just another peaceful sunny day.
To not go about and enjoy the day.

A lonely marimo moss ball.
Looking in a mirror on the wall.
Noticing nothing has changed.
Isolation is still here, untouched.

"How are you?"
"How's your day?"
"Are you well?"
The old man played it like a broken record.

"Well...you see.."
"I've been wanting to say something! So-"
"Yes! Actually...No!"
The old man replies each time it's played.