No angels marr my shoulder space
No horns nor wings to find
But yet there are two sides of me
That unkindly cohabit my mind.
Fighting, fighting, constant quarrel,
Both wrestling for command.
No time to take a quick breath in
For loss of reprimand.
A girl and a philosopher,
Not opposites, you see.
I'm in no condition for juxtaposition
Lest subjected to therapy.
The girl is cruel, with a capricious streak,
Unyielding, growling, beast.
Philosopher questions her every say,
Persistant in the least.