And what good would it do? she asked,
Knowing it made none,
Not as far as he was concerned;

He just burned
With the odd deep angst,
And pulled and punched,

And spoke his mind,
As if anyone gave a dog’s hair,
And only she

Knowing where it’d all end,
Sat staring at the moon,
Listening to some singer croon

From the radio,
Feeling the last blow
Fade away,

Until the next one
Tomorrow, or some other day.