another restless night is spent
tearing through my listless day
an Angel from above was sent
she speaks in some uncommon way
our younger selves would never leave
a status quo i cant achieve
this Death is far too old to grieve
we’ve placed our bets—
now who will pay?
I think too much and I can’t sleep, so I tried writing down my train of thought and this is the byproduct. So here you go. It’s your problem now. Happy birthday.