Two's the magic number,
For it rings bells that cast a spell.
Where the casted can be expelled,
To a realm where you lose slumber.
Rumours say only a siesta can heal you,
Then tell me how it brings dark remnants,
Through the euphoria I had with you.
Trust me in this matter,
Neither of us wanted this,
For only in this we can find peace.
A truce it is not to be called,
When it certainly sounds like one.
If one can't even endure this atrocity,
Then is it possibly fair to have such hauntings,
Biologically harming me through neurology.